Soldier
by GrayWolf84
Summary: When a plowshare has been forged into a sword, it's not always so easy to return to the farm. Rated T for the usual violence & upsetting content. COMPLETE
1. Doubts

**Author's Notes: Evenin' folks! Well, it being the Fourth of July and my favoritest holiday EVER, it occurred to me this morning that it might be appropriate to start posting a story I've been chewing on for nigh four months now, since before I even finished _When It Rains, It Pours_. Now, this one's a little heavier reading than usual, and a little less action, but I'm working hard to make it good. So, enjoy!**

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**Soldier**

**Chapter One: Doubts**

**Howdy there, friends and neighbors! Now, folks, I know most of the stories you know about the Duke family generally involve a bright orange race car kickin' up dust in the face of the Hazzard law, while the Dukes themselves straighten out the side-winding curves of the system and keep themselves out of trouble. But this isn't one of those stories. _This_ story starts months before Fate brought the Duke boys to that scrap-yard outside of Capitol City, months before Bo finished out his last year of high school, but just three days since a trans-Pacific airliner finally brought one Duke back stateside for good…**

The young man sitting across seats A and B12 in Car Four of the Friday morning train from Richmond, Virginia to Atlanta, Georgia - was quiet. He'd spoken to no one since boarding the train, given no indication that he was anything but an ordinary traveler making his way home, and in fact, just now, he was sound asleep. Yet he drew an unusual number and assortment of reactions from his fellow passengers, ranging from grateful, sympathetic smiles to thoughtful curiosity to self-conscious avoidance to black hatred to suspicious squint-eyed scrutiny, as though he might suddenly jump up and maul the nearest small child. Maybe it was his clothes that gave him away - the tan t-shirt and green camo fatigues - or the battered dog tags hanging on a chain around his neck, or the equally battered boots on his feet. Or maybe, if they bothered to look long enough, the wary passengers noticed the utter exhaustion in his features, the worn, haggard frame, twenty pounds too light, or the occasional dry cough that came from a not-quite-fully-healed bullet wound to the chest. But whatever the extent of their powers of observation, there wasn't a passenger in the small, half-empty train car who didn't know that Luke Duke was a Marine on his way home from war - and right now, there wasn't a more hated man in the country than a United States soldier returning from overseas.

* * *

Luke cautiously stepped down from the passenger car of the train to the bustling platform, already being pushed forward by the other passengers behind him. He adjusted the half-filled military duffel bag slung over his shoulder and took a couple limping steps forward, trying to search the crowd as he walked without tripping on some child or crashing into someone. It didn't take long for his keen eyes to spot the bright red cap standing out at the far end of the platform. Luke headed in that direction with eager strides, despite the ache in his feet. 

It was obvious that Luke had spotted them before they spotted him. Bo, his once-little cousin Bo, had shot up like a weed and filled out his lanky frame with lean muscle in Luke's years away. Now he stood awkwardly with his hands shoved in his pockets, clearly agitated as he looked around the crowd. Uncle Jesse said something stern to him, and he stopped rocking on his heels impatiently, scowling a little. Daisy sat at the end of the bench next to her uncle, staring down at her feet and not looking around at the crowd at all. Her long chestnut-brown hair partly covered her face, but Luke could see she'd done some growing of her own, more a young woman now than the girl he'd left. Uncle Jesse's face was impassive and patient as ever, systematically scanning the faces of dozens and dozens of strangers before his eyes finally met Luke's.

Luke's eager smile faded some as he saw those eyes remain impassive, betraying neither joy nor hate at the return of his war-ravaged nephew. Luke continued forward still, the crowd thinning out around him. Eventually Bo noticed him, and Luke's heart stopped for a full beat as Bo's annoyed expression shifted, his gentle blue eyes now full of cold malice.

Fearful now, his smile gone, and hoping the trembling didn't show, Luke forced himself forward, feeling for all the world like he was walking into enemy fire. Finally Daisy looked up, hearing his limp-shuffling approach, and she stood, but looked away again, refusing to meet Luke's gaze. Luke felt a knot of anguish forming in the pit of his stomach even before Jesse spoke, and he swallowed hard.

"Well, boy…you made it back," Jesse said simply, stating it as a fact, his expression still emotionless.

Luke nodded once, unable to speak.

"Well…" Jesse pursed his lips. "I figured I owed it to you to tell you in person. You were like a son to me, after all. But I won't have no killer in my house, nor anywheres near my family. Yer an adult now, and you've got yer blood money, so you find somewheres else to go. Yer no kin of ours anymore."

Wide-eyed, fighting to remain calm, Luke stared at his uncle, who had just so matter-of-factly torn his nephew's very life apart. Then he looked at Bo, who continued to glare at him with pure hatred in his eyes - a dagger straight to his heart might have been less painful. With a pleading expression, Luke turned to Daisy, but she turned away without a word just as he saw the slightest glimmer of tears on her cheeks.

"I…I…" Luke choked on the words and took a step backwards in shocked disbelief. "Bo…cousin…" He held out one beseeching hand.

Bo's upper lip twitched in a hint of a snarl. "No cousin of mine, killer," he spat, both figuratively and literally, a glob of saliva landing at Luke's aching feet. Jesse put a supportive arm around Bo's shoulders, lifting his chin as he leveled a cold look at the Marine.

Horrified, Luke took another step back. _No, no, no…_ One booted heel caught on a broken tile on the floor, and he tripped backwards, and fell, and fell, and fell…

* * *

Luke jerked awake, his skin alive with cold shivers. The other train passengers were looking at him strangely as they gathered their belongings, but he was still too much in the nightmare to really register their reactions. _No kin of ours…killer…_

Wide-eyed, he swallowed hard, heart pounding. The movement in the passenger car finally brought Luke back to reality, and he realized he was sprawled on the floor in front of the two empty seats he'd been sitting across. Grasping the seats, he pulled himself to his feet with a grunt, and bent down to retrieve his belongings from underneath.

Three days. Three days he'd been back on American soil, and all he'd seen so far was Camp Pendleton, three airports, three train stations, and the same old nondescript countryside rolling by, neither caring that he'd left nor that he'd returned. The half-empty duffel bag in his hands held the sum total of his belongings after three years of service overseas. Three years of war.

It wasn't over, either. Back in 'Nam, yes, there were men still fighting, suffering, dying, but now the war was _here_, here in the U.S., here at home. He passed by men and women in the streets who held the same malice and hatred in their eyes as the rice-paddy villages of women and children he'd passed through. He looked down to avoid those hateful eyes, the eyes that made him feel ashamed, even though every fiber of his being was screaming that _this_ is what he fought for, what _he_ suffered for, to uphold the right of these American citizens to spit on him.

No, that wasn't what he fought for. Luke had stopped asking himself that question a long time ago. At some point, it had been about ideals, about what was _right_, but even the innocence of fighting the good fight had been taken from him - there are no ideals involved when a few scraps of cloth and a battered helmet are the only things between you and a bullet. In the end, he fought to keep himself and his men alive for another day, against an enemy who wanted him dead, and that was that.

Some of the other passengers were still giving him odd looks, but now he purposely ignored them, just as he'd stoically ignored the hateful glares and angry insults of perfect strangers throughout his trip. Pokerfaced, Luke shouldered his duffel bag and joined the line of passengers crowding their way forward to exit onto the platform of the Atlanta Amtrak station, still shivering a little. The cold knot of fear hadn't changed, and was still firmly fixed in the pit of his gut, growing more painful by the moment. There was nothing he wanted more than to be back home with his family on that quiet Hazzard farm, helping his uncle and watching over his cousins, picking up where his life had left off, but he didn't dare let himself hope and believe that would actually happen. _They won't want me back…they'll hate me when they realize what I've done…_

Nevermind how happy Uncle Jesse sounded when Luke called Tuesday from California and said he was on his way home. Nevermind the dozens of letters he'd received every month of his thirty-eight month sojourn abroad, every one of them saying they loved him and hoped he was well. Nevermind the faded scar on his palm, the mark of his pact with his cousin and blood brother.

No, since the moment he was handed his papers a little over six days ago, Luke couldn't close his eyes without imagining the same hate, anger, and rejection in his family's eyes as he saw in the eyes of those villagers and strangers, and he wondered if they would be strangers to him now - or he to them. Fear gnawed at him in a way it never had in 'Nam, and after every stolen snatch of plagued sleep, he had to re-steel himself to keep going, continue home, face his family, no matter what they had to say. Luke, who had never doubted in all this time, who had so looked forward to going home, couldn't help but be afraid that things had changed too much, that he had changed too much, and that they couldn't love him anymore.

He stepped down to the train platform, jostled along by the impatient passengers behind him who were far more eager to be on their way. With aching footsteps, Luke carefully made his way through the crowd, searching hopefully and fearfully along the edges of the station lobby. The scene seemed foggy and numbed, a ghost of the vivid nightmare fresh in his mind. He wasn't ready when he saw that red cap standing out against the bland colors of the bustling crowd, and he drew a hitched breath when he saw, exactly like the last picture they'd sent, first Jesse, then Daisy - and no Bo. _No cousin of mine…_

_Oh Lord, they don't want me back,_ Luke thought, seeing his uncle and cousin stare back at him. _I was right, they don't want me back, it's been too long, I've done too much, they don't want me back._ His heart sank in his chest and he swallowed hard, but he couldn't move, rooted to the spot. All his fears were coming true, and he wanted for all the world to turn and run. Then Jesse smiled broadly through his thick white beard, eyes twinkling, and Daisy grinned with delight, shocking Luke into immobility all over again.

Before he could blink, Daisy turned away to one side, making a motion with one hand that Luke couldn't see, and a third figure in a blue t-shirt waded through the crowd from the direction of the men's room. Bo's attention was focused on his female cousin, trying to puzzle out what she was trying to tell him across the flow of twenty other people. Exasperated, she finally just pointed, and Bo followed her gesture in Luke's direction.

For a brief moment, his joyful grin rivaled the afternoon Georgia sun, and, like the fallen rain from a midnight storm, Luke's fears and worries instantly evaporated into nothing under the brilliant warmth of that bright smile.

Three seconds later, his duffel-bag dropped and forgotten on the train station floor, Luke braced himself as one-hundred and seventy pounds of high school linebacker assaulted him with an enthusiastic hug. The words choked in Luke's throat as he returned the hug, but the fierceness of his tight hold on his little cousin spoke volumes of his joy and relief. Daisy and Jesse weren't far behind, smothering Bo and Luke both with kisses and hugs - since Bo didn't see fit to let go of his long-lost cousin just yet. None of his family saw Luke's overjoyed tears through the watery blur of their own.

When Bo finally pulled back, laughing and coughing as he tried to draw air back into his lungs, Daisy took his place, tears openly streaming down her face as she threw her arms around her warrior cousin. Luke found enough of his voice to whisper her name, almost in disbelief, and she leaned back to kiss his rough-shaven cheek before hugging him tightly again.

Then it was Uncle Jesse's turn. Daisy reluctantly pulled away from Luke, and Jesse stood back for a moment, looking him up and down while Luke looked back at him, that twinge of fear returning. But there were tears in Jesse's eyes too, and he stepped forward to grab his nephew in a tight hold.

"My boy, my boy…" he whispered as Luke returned the hug, closing his eyes and pressing his cheek to his uncle's shoulder. "Welcome home, son."

Tears flowing anew, Luke leaned heavily into his uncle's warm embrace, wondering how he had ever doubted this one constant in his life - the love of his family.

**I tell ya, that's one thing about these Dukes: they sure stick together, through thick and thin - and we ain't seen _nothin'_ yet.**_

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_

_"What goes around comes around... Feel it breathing down heavy on you...  
Be sure your sins will find you out... Your past will hunt you down and return to tell on you..."  
_- "Bones" by Little Big Town


	2. Safe In The Arms Of Love

**Author's Notes: Howdy everyone! Whew, thanks for the hugely positive response to this one! Now, it might seem like this one is a little slow to start, but you'll see what's happening pretty quick - just bear with me. ;-) And I always love feedback - my new job takes a lot out of me, and notes from readers do a lot to motivate me when my hands are all torn up and I'm all sunburned and annoyed with the public in general. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2: Safe In The Arms of Love**

Bo, Daisy, and Jesse had worries of their own, in the few short days since Luke's phone call to say he was coming home for good. He was the last of the Hazzard youth returning from the war. Six had gone, to the Air Force, Navy, Army, and Luke the only Marine. Three were killed in action. Hank Carson had come and left again, moving his wife and newborn baby up to Nebraska with her folks. Daniel Winterson returned six months before, minus a lower right leg, and had since become a sodden fixture in the seedier bars of Hazzard. Now it was Luke's turn.

Had he changed? Would they recognize him? His letters were always short, if they came at all – sometimes weeks of fear passed between each smudged letter, scribbled with a borrowed pencil, and he always asked about them, instead of saying much of anything about himself. His family's letters reached him in bundles – five, six, ten at a time, as they piled up between the supply deliveries. All three of them wrote him often, whether he wrote back or not. They had been so proud when he earned his paratrooper's wings, and of his brief but bright venture into boxing, but all that had been stateside, the first eight months of his absence. The thirty months since then had been full of nothing but worry for all of them.

Daisy had just finished school the previous spring, and helped her uncle out around the farm as much as she was able. She worked the stills while Bo was in class, did the cooking and cleaning in the mornings and evenings, and worried about Jesse when he made his 'shine runs. Bo was partway through his senior year, though he was interested in school more for the football and the girls than the academics. True to his promise to Luke, though, he scraped by with passing grades, and didn't drop out, as much as he wanted to. When he wasn't at practice or games, or doing a man's share of work at the farm, Bo spent his afternoons with Cooter, working on cars and daydreaming racing dreams. They all missed Luke terribly.

Jesse, who had known war himself, had worries of his own, worries that he did not share with his young niece and nephew. War changed a man, unavoidably, irrevocably, terribly. He read between the lines of Luke's short correspondence and saw the pain, the sadness, the fear. In his longest letter, fourteen months ago, Luke had written a great deal about how beautiful the night stars were, how serenely quiet the jungle could be at night, how vivid the colors of the sun at dawn, and how much he missed them at home - and Jesse knew he was clinging to the few bits of good he could find in the hell he was going through. The Duke patriarch worried about the lasting effects on his eldest nephew - eldest son.

Some of Jesse's fears seemed confirmed when he first saw Luke standing there in the crowd, with that lifeless, broken expression on his face, the dull glaze in his once-sparkling blue eyes. He looked lost, Jesse thought, and for a split second, fearful, as he finally sighted his family at the far end of the lobby. Every bit of him seemed to cry out for rest and healing. Even his smile, with his family's arms around him, was an imitation weakened by long disuse. As they made their way to the truck, Bo and Daisy chattering the whole way, Jesse took note of Luke's slow, stiff, limping gait, like a paw-sore, weary hound at the end of a long and fruitless hunt.

Luke was largely unaware of his uncle's scrutiny, overwhelmed as he was. He had been so worried, he didn't let himself think about it too much, but now, he was home - Home! There was Bo talking his ear off again, with that same boyish grin. Luke couldn't believe how tall he was now – taller than himself, even! – and how the awkward, clumsy teenager he'd left behind had grown into this slender, strapping young man. And even if Bo hadn't written to him, Luke knew with that grin, those eyes, that hair, his younger cousin was sure to be chasing skirts all over town – or they were chasing him.

As they walked through the parking lot, Daisy wrapped slender arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, more easily now that she had grown a few inches herself. Luke squeezed her tight and kissed her forehead, basking in the show of affection. She reached one hand up to rub the short dark fuzz that was his hair, and he found himself chuckling in response to her teasing smile. His Marine-regulation haircut was a far cry from the longer, unruly cut he had grown up with.

Still smiling as Bo bounded up onto the seat next to him and shut the truck door, Luke leaned back against the familiar old truck cushion, happier than he had been in a very long time. Jesse got in and started the truck, and they were off. The drive was quiet at first, until Luke covered a mighty yawn, and decided he needed some conversation if he was gonna stay awake.

"So, uh…what all's been going on around here? How'd the harvest go? How's business? " Luke asked, meaning the Duke family moonshine business by the last question. Bo, Daisy, and Jesse started at answer him all at once, starting with different pieces, but the younger Dukes stopped, letting their uncle speak.

It took Jesse most of the ninety-minute drive to tell Luke all about the recent highlights of the 'shine business, from dangerous runs (several by Bo) to increasingly sharp revenuers to product quality to prices and profits. That last bit became important, because with a wet spring and dry summer, the harvest had been poor, Jesse went on to say. They were just pulling onto Mill Pond Road in Hazzard as Jesse began to talk about the crops, and it was a discussion that lasted them through the farmhouse doors and into the living room over tall, cold glasses of lemonade.

Sitting at one end of the couch, Luke took in his uncle's words along with all the sights and smells of Home – the worn old carpet that had resembled a racetrack to two little boys and their Matchbox cars, the comfy old couch that had been a Christmas present to Aunt Martha one prosperous year, the pictures on the mantle of family loved and family lost, the warm breeze from the fields carrying the scent of cotton and earthy soil - the smiling faces of his family sitting around him. So many times on so many dark days, Luke had closed his eyes just to imagine Home, just for a few minutes, and for just a few minutes he was healed, until he opened his eyes and with disappointment found himself still in the combat zone, still fighting.

"…But listen to me, carryin' on like this!" Jesse was saying as Daisy gathered up their empty glasses. "We haven't given Luke one minute to take his shoes off! I'm sure you'd like to unpack and settle in a little. Daisy here worked all week to get your clothes and blankets all washed and clean, and we finally got Bo to clean up the room - scrubbed it spic and span, he did. That is, if you still don't mind sharing with him," Jesse added, wondering what Luke's expectations would be now. A grown man might not want to share a room as he had as a child, and Luke was certainly a grown man now.

Daisy and Bo had been blushing at Jesse's comments on their hard work - it had been such a surprise when they received that phone call Tuesday afternoon, at least as much of a surprise as it was when Luke was handed his papers and ordered to evacuate with the last of the wounded from the besieged hospital he'd been guarding. Now, though, Bo looked up apprehensively - the thought had crossed his mind, but he'd clean forgotten about it.

Luke, on the other hand, looked taken aback. Mind sharing? He hadn't hardly slept in three days because he was so worried about being cast out of the house and the family entirely - why on earth would he mind sharing a room with his little cousin, like he had every day of his life?

"Of course I don't mind!" he said, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet and gathering his pack. "Wait…" He turned to Bo, frowning. "You don't still snore, do you?"

Bo gaped at him for a moment, first relieved, then anxious again, until he realized Luke was joking. Luke grinned at him, and Bo grinned back.

"Come 'ere, you," Luke ordered, and Bo happily accepted and returned another fierce hug.

It only took Luke a few minutes to unpack, neatly folding his clean clothes into the drawers and quickly tucking away the few other items in his pack. The handful of pictures and bundle of letters went into his wardrobe in an old cigar box, and the medals he buried much deeper under some old sweaters down in the bottom drawer. Then he spent some time just looking around the room, looking at old trophies from Little League and Boy Scouts, and new ones Bo had picked up in football more recently. No one interrupted him - Luke had a feeling Uncle Jesse was holding Bo and Daisy back, to give him a little time alone, and he appreciated his thoughtfulness.

However, he didn't really want to be alone, so he retrieved the last two items remaining on his neatly made bed - a tube of prescription medication and one pair of brand-new fluffy white socks - and stepped across the hall to the bathroom to treat his feet and return to the living room as quickly as possible.

He found a washcloth and ran the sink full of hot water while he sat on the toilet cover and worked at the knots on his bootlaces. He hissed to himself as he carefully pulled each boot off, particularly careful of the sheathed K-bar knife he wore at the ankle of his right boot. A soft knock on the door drew his attention as he set the boots aside, and Jesse peered in, quickly noting the bloodstained and yellow-crusted socks.

"Need a hand?" Jesse asked, only partially masking his concern.

Luke bobbed his head noncommittally - it wasn't exactly a two-man job, but he guessed his uncle wanted to be helpful in some way, and he wouldn't mind the company at least. Closing the door behind him, Jesse sat down at the edge of the tub while Luke eased off the first sock. Jesse gave a soft gasp at the sight.

The soles of Luke's feet looked like the worst case of athlete's foot Jesse had ever seen - dry, cracked, and bleeding, crusted yellow in spots and red in others. 'Jungle rot' was the name for it, and Luke had it as bad as any man out there. Soaking the washcloth, Luke winced as he carefully washed his right foot off, reopening some of the splits and staining the cloth red. While his foot air-dried, he reached back, trading the cloth for the tube of medicated anti-fungal cream. He gave a grunt of pain as he rubbed it in, hating the fungus infection for its petty annoying pain, as though he didn't have enough to endure already.

Jesse didn't say anything, just looked on sadly. When Luke reached for the socks, though, Jesse took them from his hand and unfolded them, setting the one on his knee and motioning for Luke to lean a little closer forward. Ever so gently he eased the sock on over wounds and medication, all the way up to the ankle where the sock settled in place. Luke didn't flinch once at the tender handling, but in fact yawned again, rubbing his eyes with the back of one hand. His sleepless journey home was starting to catch up with him again, and he wondered how long he could continue to outrun it.

It didn't take long to give his left foot the same treatment, and by the time the sink was cleaned up and his old socks were in the trash, Luke felt worlds better. He carefully stood and could immediately feel the difference, giving another mental thanks to the Marine lieutenant who recommended investing in a few dozen new socks on the way home. Bo and Daisy, who were starting to wonder what was taking so long, looked up eagerly at Luke and Jesse's approach, trading smiles all around.

"Now, Bo…" Luke began, easing himself back onto the end of the couch and starting to feel the muzziness of sleep tugging at him. He ignored it and focused on his cousin. "What's this about being captain of the football team?"

Bo grinned, and the conversation began anew.

* * *

A little less than an hour later, the family room was quiet. Wrung out to the bone, Luke had fallen dead asleep against the corner of the couch, mid-conversation, and his family was content to watch him sleep, thinking their own thoughts. Jesse was thinking about what the coming days might hold, for good and bad, after all Luke had been through. Daisy was thinking about dinner and all of Luke's favorite foods, which she'd make sure were on the menu for some while. It was Bo who finally broke the silence. 

"Boy, he sure looks plumb tuckered out, don't he?" he commented softly.

"He looks terrible," Daisy agreed a little more bluntly, just as softly.

"Well, he's just tired, that's all," Jesse reassured them. He gently brushed a hand over his nephew's short, fuzzy hair, and smiled a little to see Luke sigh softly under the soothing touch. "He's been through a lot, and he'll probably be worn out for a few days, until he gets used to being home again. But, with some good down-home country cookin' and some rest, he'll be just fine. He'll be right back to raising a ruckus with you two before you know it."

That made Bo smile a little. He'd thought about it rather often – daydreaming, really, when he should have been paying attention in class – about getting to hang out with his older cousin, his best friend, his blood brother, once again. Fishing, hiking, camping – he'd be old enough for his first legal drink at the Boar's Nest pretty soon – then there was that race car they'd talked about building together. Even if all they did was sit out on the porch with some of Daisy's sweet tea, Bo would be thrilled just to be able to talk to him again.

But then, among his daydreams, he'd think about where Luke was, and what he might be doing at that moment – sleeping in a muddy ditch with his pack for a pillow, sneaking silently through the jungle in a surprise attack, parachuting into a hot zone to rescue a trapped unit – after all that, how could anything Bo had to say really be important anymore? Luke wouldn't want to hear about the stupid, petty problems of his kid cousin anymore – he'd been to _war_, seen _real_ problems. Those were the days when Bo truly felt the distance between Hazzard, Georgia and Vietnam, and, lost and alone, he'd quietly seek out his uncle for his loving, understanding embrace, exactly the way he didn't notice Luke doing at the train station.

Jesse stood now, leaning over to gently touch his slumbering nephew's arm. "Luke…"

"Mmmm?"

"Luke, wake up, son. Let's get you into a real bed."

"Mmm."

"Come on…"

Blinking sleepily; Luke let himself be pulled to his feet and led along, with Jesse's arm around his waist to steady him. Daisy went on ahead to pull back the blankets on his bed, and Bo followed along behind, stopping to watch from the doorway. Jesse settled his nephew into bed fully clothed and tucked the blankets around him against the cool late October air. He was almost immediately sound asleep again. It was just after three o'clock.

* * *

Bo paced impatiently from the family room to the kitchen and back again, sitting down on the couch, only to jump up again a moment later. Daisy smiled at him from the countertop, where she was flouring chicken to fry for dinner. Her little cousin was so full of nervous energy, he hardly knew what to do with himself. Jesse had long since gone outside to tend to the chickens and the goats, driven to distraction by Bo's fidgeting. 

A floorboard creaked under Bo's booted foot, and he cringed, looking down the hallway towards the bedroom for some response. After a minute of silence, Bo breathed again, and tip-toed into the kitchen, slumping down into a chair. Daisy patted his shoulder and set a glass of cold tea on the table in front of him. She hoped it would keep him occupied long enough for her to finish dinner preparations without sending a piece of floured raw chicken flying at his head.

Luke had been out cold for going on three hours now, back in his own bed, in his own bedroom, on the Duke farm, where he belonged. The Duke family was smiling like they hadn't in a very long time - after so many distant letters and hopes and prayers, Luke was finally Home. Bo was positively wired, and Jesse wondered if it might have been better to send him to football practice to run off that energy.

The principal had graciously allowed him to take the last Friday in October off school, and the coach let him off afternoon practice, in light of Luke's homecoming. Three of Bo's teachers might have had something to do with the decision, after dealing with him in class all week since hearing the good news - 'disruptive' wasn't the word for it. His football coach only hoped he wouldn't be too distracted to perform well at Saturday's game - not just any game, but the game that would determine whether the Hazzard Hawks squeaked into the regional playoffs, or whether they'd lose to Chickasaw again for the fifth year running. Coach Maugul wanted his best linebacker in top form for the game.

Bo had taken one sip of tea when the front porch door opened and Jesse came back inside. The young man jumped to his feet again, but Jesse waved him down with a slight smile.

"Dinner won't be long, Uncle Jesse," Daisy informed him, done with flouring the chicken and now heating up the frying pan.

"We're not going to wake him up, are we?" Bo asked with concern, looking up at his uncle.

Jesse thought for a moment before answering. "No…no, I reckon he needs to sleep, just now. We can always heat something up for him later, but for now, we'll leave him be."

Bo and Daisy nodded ready agreement.

"You, on the other hand," Jesse went on, fixing Bo with a stern look. "You've got some work to do for Mr. Keller, that I believe he already paid you for. He stopped by a little bit ago to ask where you've been all week."

Bo flushed. In all the excitement, he'd clean forgotten his agreement to exercise Mr. Keller's horses and fix up the stalls and the barn. Since the beginning of summer, he'd been working all kinds of odd jobs around town, trying to save up enough money for that engine he'd seen advertised in the regional gazette. It was worn out, rusted, needed new parts, retooling, and a whole lot of TLC, but Bo knew it was perfect, the first piece of the stock car he'd dreamed about racing since he was old enough to know what a car was. Every two weeks, he flipped nervously through the gazette, hoping it was still there, but after five long months, he didn't have enough by half. Still, every bit counted, and the steady stream of odd jobs offered by kindly neighbors fueled his hope.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Jesse, I guess I just forgot. I'll head over right after dinner," Bo answered apologetically. Jesse wasn't entirely appeased.

"You do that. I told Mr. Keller you'd be happy to help him for an extra two weeks to make up for the week he lost."

Stopping himself just short of protesting - Bo did know better by now - he just nodded. "Yes, sir."

* * *

It was late when Bo returned from the Keller's farm up the road, and Jesse was just heading to bed himself. After shutting off the lights, he followed Bo down the hall to check on his eldest nephew before turning in. Uncle and nephew both stood quietly in the doorway of the bedroom, looking in by hallway light. 

At seven hours, Luke was still sleeping deeply, warm and tucked in with nary a flicker of an eyelash. He didn't exactly look peaceful, Jesse thought - calm, quiet, weary, but not peaceful. The old man had the sudden urge to run in, gather Luke up tightly in his arms, and never let go. A thousand times he'd questioned his decision to let Luke leave, and the thousand reasons he _had_ allowed it hardly made up for the thousand wakeful nights, fearing for his life with every news report and mail delivery. This was a sight he'd prayed for every morning and night for thirty-eight months - to see Luke safe and sound, asleep in his own bed, protected under Jesse's roof once again. Nothing had been the same without him, nor ever would have been, if the Good Lord had taken him. Apparently, Bo was thinking along the same lines.

"I never could get used to that empty bed," the boy commented softly.

Jesse patted his shoulder reassuringly. In his worry for Luke, it was easy to forget his pride for both his boys and his little girl. Bo could be a little wild and reckless sometimes, but he was following his cousin's footsteps and growing into a fine young man. And Daisy - more often than not, Daisy was the glue that held the Duke household together. Now with Luke back - Jesse's family was whole again. He only prayed it would stay that way.

**Now, I sure am happy to see Luke home, but somethin' tells me there's a whole lot more to this story than just a good ol' boy coming home. Guess we'll have to wait and see…**

**

* * *

**"_He was nineteen in green, with a new M-Sixteen, just doin' what he had to do…  
He was dropped in the jungle where the choppers would rumble, and the smell of napalm in the air…"  
_- "Eighth of November" by Big & Rich 

"_Seems to me we have an obligation to do the right thing…"  
_- Luke Duke, 'Undercover Dukes'


	3. Family Time

**Author's Notes: Bwahaha. Or something like that. Anyhow, I've got a visit from the parental unit coming up this weekend, so y'all probably won't see any updates until, oh, the 24th - unless I can sneak one in sometime in between. Of course, I think Chapter 4 is only half beta-read at the moment, so y'all have to wait anyhow. ;-) And on that note, this chapter is officially dedicated to one of my beta readers (you know who you are!) who so hopefully tries to convince me to tone down a few choice words of bad language, and I only occasionally listen - so there's your bad language warning too. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Family Time**

It was dark when Luke slowly opened his eyes, the deep blue darkness just before dawn. He had no idea where he was, but this wasn't a new sensation, so he lay quiet and still until he figured it out. Indoors, not jungle - base camp tent? No, too warm. Hospital? Maybe, but hadn't he been discharged? Barracks, then - the barracks just outside of Saigon, awaiting redeployment. A snore to his right drew Luke's attention, to another man in the next bed. New recruit, he figured cynically - he'd learn quick enough not to snore, or he'd find himself a target on a midnight ambush.

The blond shifted, pushing away his covers. Pajamas?…and bare feet? Where was his rifle? Definitely a new recruit. Christ, did they even put them through basic training anymore? It took Luke just three days to learn to sleep with his K-bar in his boot and his rifle in arm's reach, if not cradled in his hands. The boys they'd been bringing in got younger and younger every month, and seemed to die faster and faster. This one would be no different - and for some reason, this time, it disturbed Luke like it hadn't in more than two years. A knot of fear and pain worked itself up in his chest, and though he didn't understand it, he found himself thinking, _No_. This one would not die. Not if he had anything to do with it.

Then the blond recruit shifted again, turning towards Luke, and his heart wrenched in two as he looked at the face of his nightmares. It was Bo. Bo was the new recruit. _No no no no no_. Luke looked wildly around the barracks room - there had to be something he could do. Send him back. Send him home. Get him a position as a clerk, a courier, even on the mechanic's pool. Anything.

Luke blinked as he looked around. More than a few things seemed out of place here. Trophies? A pennant for the Hazzard Hawks? Dresser drawers, a wardrobe closet? Wait…this was no barracks. He took a tentative sniff of the air coming in through the cracked window. This wasn't the city-smell of Saigon or the jungle-smell of base camp. This was…home. Hazzard.

Slowly the sleep-muddle cleared away, and Luke fuzzily pieced the last few days back together. He'd been released from the hospital, somehow deemed fit for service after spending a month hanging onto life by a thread - or rather, by a few pieces of paper, the letters of his family. He spent another month on furlough in the city with Rob and a few other guys, recuperating and generally enjoying himself. The new recruits came in and the company reformed, with Lance-Corporal Lukas K. Duke in command of a platoon of forty men. The company was temporarily assigned to guard a major field hospital outside the city, awaiting orders to rejoin the jungle assault teams.

Those orders never came. Instead, incredible news. Troops were being pulled out left and right - and he was on the next flight home. One day at Pendleton, then two flights and three train stations later, he'd limped into the terminal of the Atlanta Amtrak station with a half-full duffel bag slung over one shoulder, all at once hopeful and afraid to see his family again. Then Bo's, and Daisy's, and Uncle Jesse's arms around him…and Luke didn't really remember too much from there. He must have fallen asleep, because here he was, in his own bed, his own home, feeling better after fourteen hours of Hazzard than he had after a whole month of Saigon.

Taking a deep breath of sweet Hazzard air, Luke stretched and lay back in bed, listening to the oh-so-familiar sound of his cousin sleeping off to his right, and the crickets chirruping outside the window. Slowly, lazily, a smile spread across his lips, and for several minutes, he did nothing but enjoy the sheer happiness of being home.

Luke, however, had always been a man of action, and was trained even more so by the Marines - so he didn't lay around in bed for long. He sat up, stretching again and acknowledging the stiff pain in his chest with a tight grunt. One hand slipped under his tan t-shirt and probed the fresh scar, while he carefully drew a deep breath. Not bad, today. He hadn't told Uncle Jesse, or any of his family, about his very near brush with death, or how Rob had read their last few letters to him in that hospital bed, hoping Luke would take strength from their love. He didn't plan on telling them, either. The bullet had punctured his lung and claimed a small piece of his liver, but as Rob was overly fond of telling him, he was one tough bastard, and he lived. Hoo-rah. End of story.

He climbed out of bed and pulled on his boots, then reached a hand out to grab something that wasn't leaning against the bed where he always left it. He frowned for a moment, feeling a bit of emptiness that had nothing to do with Hazzard. Then, shaking it off, he stood and headed for the kitchen.

No one else was up yet - even Jesse was still sleeping - and Luke moved quietly through the farmhouse. He decided, with another smile, that it would be a nice surprise for Uncle Jesse if he did all the morning chores for him. After setting a pot of water to heat for coffee, Luke headed outside, relishing every sight and sound and smell that reminded him he was home.

The first golden rays of dawn were spilling over the horizon, washing the fields in brightly-hued sunlight, when Luke finished with the chickens and livestock. Instead of going inside, he stood at one end of the porch and watched the sunrise, still smiling. He heard heavy footsteps inside, then the door opened and shut, and Jesse joined him, handing him a steaming mug of coffee. Luke took an appreciative sip - just as good as he remembered.

"Sleep well?" Jesse asked, after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"Slept great," Luke answered, looking up with a smile Jesse had come to know quite well. It was the same smile Bo had worn all week - one of sheer joy and contentment. Spontaneously, Jesse reached an arm out and hugged his nephew's shoulders, almost to reassure himself he was really and truly there.

"I missed you, Luke. We all did," Jesse said in a cracked voice.

Luke suddenly found himself rather misty-eyed. "I missed you too, Uncle Jesse." He cleared his throat, feeling a little uncomfortable at getting so emotional so easily. He quickly changed the subject. "I, uh, took care of the chores already. I've been up for a little while. Hey, I thought you were keeping twenty chickens now? I only counted sixteen."

Jesse frowned crossly. "We were, until that danged raccoon started getting into them two weeks ago. I swear, every time we figure out how he's getting in, he finds another way!"

Luke hid his smile at his uncle's gruff ire - how often had that annoyance been aimed in Luke or Bo's direction? "Aw, I'm sure we'll stop him somehow, Uncle Jesse."

Jesse's reply was cut short when two more pair of footsteps moved through the farmhouse. Luke turned and looked through the window to see Daisy smile sweetly at him from the kitchen, and Bo padding barefoot into the family room, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He grinned sleepily when he saw Luke standing outside, and the elder cousin decided it was probably time to head inside.

While breakfast cooked, Luke found himself the center of another round of hugs and kisses. It seemed, like Uncle Jesse, that Bo and Daisy needed to reassure themselves that he really was there. Luke didn't mind in the least - he just grinned and accepted their warm affection.

When Daisy served up breakfast - an unusually large affair, with heaping platters of eggs, pancakes, grits, sausages, bacon, toast, and fruit, all of which she made sure Luke got a huge serving - Bo was reminded of another meal they'd eaten with Luke the Marine.

It was just after he'd completed basic training in South Carolina - he had two-weeks' leave before he reported to Pendleton on the West Coast - and that dinner was his first meal since they'd picked him up at the train station. Bo teased him over his short-cropped hair, but he could already sense a change in his older cousin - a certain rigidity and alertness that came from barking drill sergeants and trained military precision. Luke sat perfectly upright, shoulders square, back straight - every part of him cut in straight lines and crisp angles, right down to the buttoned cuffs of his shirt. After Uncle Jesse said grace, Luke remained waiting patiently while his younger cousins dug in, with his unusual stiff posture. It wasn't until a minute later, when Jesse stood to fetch himself a glass of water, that he leaned over and whispered something in his nephew's ear. Luke flushed red, then dug in heartily as well. Later, Luke told Bo what Jesse had said - 'You don't have to wait for permission'.

Bo saw none of that now. Luke surveyed the breakfast feast hungrily, and looked like he could hardly wait for his uncle's mealtime prayer. That stiff, rigid posture was replaced by a relaxed appearance and a placid expression that no drill sergeant could shake. Bo almost envied that calm self-assurance and casual strength. Then Bo noticed Uncle Jesse looking at him with raised eyebrows, and he realized they were waiting on him. He folded his hands and bowed his head, and Jesse went ahead with grace.

"Lord, we thank you for this beautiful day and this fine meal before us, but most of all, we thank you for bringing Luke home to us safely, and for answering our prayers and keeping him safe through these three long years apart. Amen."

All three young Dukes were quiet for a moment longer, before following with murmured 'Amen's.

Luke launched into his plate with all the appetite of a starved elkhound, but he quickly remembered his manners and slowed it down a bit. Daisy, who was looking to see how well he ate, was the first to notice a new oddity in his mealtime behavior. It was fascinating to watch. Luke hardly ever looked straight down at his plate, but would take a bite, then make a quick sweep of the room with his eyes and ears, then take another bite, then sweep the room. It wasn't like he thought someone would steal his food - more like he expected, well, an attack, at any minute. Daisy shivered a little to think of it. She could hardly imagine what it must have been like.

The breakfast conversation was light and happy. Bo and Daisy were so eager to tell him all about the things he'd missed, it was very easy for Luke not to say much of anything at all, and no one quite wanted to ask him about any of it – not even Bo, who had been excited by the prospect of fighting in a war way back when he first signed up. Bo talked about high school, football, and 'the guys' - mostly Cooter and his brothers - while Daisy reported on the goings-on around town, who moved where, when, and why, who dated and married who, and so on. As the meal wound down, Jesse interrupted Bo's run-on chatter to bring the blond back to the here-and-now.

"Bo, speaking of football - don't you have a game today?"

Struck dumb, Bo's eyes grew wide - he'd forgotten about that too!

"What time are you supposed to be there?" Jesse pressed.

Blue eyes darted to the clock on the wall. "Aw, heck! In ten minutes!" He looked to Luke unhappily, not wanting to leave, but knowing how much the team was counting on him to be there. "The game's at ten, but we have to warm up."

Jesse pushed back from his half-finished plate. "Well, you'd best get your hind end in gear! I'll drive you."

Bo was out of his chair and halfway through the family room before he stopped in mid-stride. "Luke?" he asked, turning to look back into the kitchen apprehensively.

"Yeah, Bo?"

"Will you be there?"

Luke smiled. What was Bo so worried about? "Of course I will!"

Then Bo grinned, and was practically running to dress and meet Jesse at the truck.

* * *

At nine-fifty, Jesse, Luke, and Daisy were climbing out of the pickup truck parked in the high school parking lot, joining the stragglers headed for the football field out back. Luke - showered, dressed, feet newly treated, and wearing jeans and the first shirt he'd come across - looked and felt a far sight better than he had the day before; human, almost. It was a warm morning for Hazzard in October, but a cool one for Luke, who'd been sub-tropical for so long - still, the long-sleeved blue-plaid shirt kept him warm enough. 

Jesse was surprised to see the crowd of Hazzard and Chickasaw residents amassed on the metal bleachers and every spare bit of grass in between - he had forgotten himself what a big game this was supposed to be. Most everyone had arrived much earlier than usual to stake out the best seats, and Luke frowned to see the only space left was standing-room only, at the far end of the Hazzard goal line.

The three Dukes stood there for a moment at the gate in the chain-link fence, trying to decide what to do, when a quiet sound began to patter through the Hazzard crowd. It grew louder, rippling along the bleachers, and even some of the Chickasaw residents joined in. It took a moment for Luke to realize it was applause - and another moment to realize it wasn't directed at the teams, but at him. Hands clapped his shoulders - high school friends and neighbors, even some folks Luke didn't know so well - and those who couldn't reach him were smiling and waving. A little thunderstruck, he waved back, and found himself ushered forward to a space on the front row of the bleachers that had suddenly cleared - the best seats among the Hazzard crowd. Jesse and Daisy were escorted up to sit with him, while Luke was still returning greetings and wondering at this celebrity treatment.

The truth of the matter was, a small town like Hazzard was proud of their own, and they'd been especially proud of the six boys who'd left home to fight for their country. On three different occasions - one of them a football game like this - the townfolk had received the terrible news of their fallen boys. Most of the town turned out for their memorial services - their funerals would be held in Arlington. Hank Carson had come and gone before anyone but his family realized he'd been home, and Danny Winterson was just a disgraceful drunk - why would anyone congratulate _him_? But Luke Duke - now there was a boy to be proud of! He was a Duke, after all, and a smart, strapping lad, who did his duty with courage and returned to stand tall among his fellow citizens of Hazzard. Who could begrudge him a seat to see his younger cousin's football game, so soon after his return home?

Luke's cheeks were an embarrassed color of red by the time the attention died down and he could focus on the real reason for being here. The teams were in their huddles, their coaches dishing out final instructions and bits of advice. The coin toss - Chickasaw had the ball first - then the snap, and the game had begun. Daisy pointed out Bo's number to Luke, though he would have recognized that gangly frame anywhere, and they joined the Hazzard crowd in shouting and cheering for the team.

Luke winced as a heavy tackle took Bo down hard, but the blond was back on his feet in an instant, calling something to another teammate. Chickasaw scored three touchdowns in the first ten minutes, and the Hazzard defense was doing pretty poorly. Bo in particular didn't seem to have it together, and it was throwing off the other guys around him. With the Chickasaw coach smiling, sure another playoff game was in the bag, Hazzard's Coach Maugul called for a time-out five minutes before the end of the first quarter. Hazzard had yet to take possession of the ball. Luke winced again when he saw Bo get called over to talk.

"I don't get it," Jesse was saying, on Luke's left. "Bo's been playing so much better than this!"

"I wonder what's gotten into him," Daisy commented, watching the exchange between Bo and the coach with a concerned frown.

Luke couldn't help but notice old Rusty Maugul gesture straight in his direction while barking at Bo, nor Bo's look in his direction before replying.

"DUKE!" Maugul roared from the sidelines after calling the time-out. Bo trotted over, panting a bit, and waited for the earful he knew he had coming. "It seems that practice yesterday was more necessary than I thought! What are you _doing_ out there?.!"

"I'm sorry, Coach, I'm trying…"

"I've seen you try harder to pick up _girls_! Do you want me to bench you for the rest of the game?.!"

Bo looked horrified. "No sir! I…" He couldn't even explain how self-conscious he felt, knowing Luke was watching, and the harder he tried to be great, the worse he seemed to do. He just wanted his cousin to be proud.

Studying his linebacker's expression, Maugul got an inkling that was the case. "Bo…" he began in a low, serious tone. "You want to play well for your cousin?" he asked.

Bo hung his head. "Yes sir."

"Then _forget that he's there, and play like you did in practice this morning!_" Maugul growled, pointing towards the Duke family at the same time.

Bo looked across the green field to where Luke sat, and he could see Luke looking straight at him. "Yes sir."

"Good lad. Now, get back out there!"

The whistle blew, and the game was back in progress.

Chickasaw scored a field goal with a beautiful, well-placed kick, but there was nothing Bo could do about the pigskin soaring forty feet above his head. Setting his jaw in grim determination, he refused to look at the crowd on the sidelines, and he focused entirely on the ball and the other young men hurtling around him. Two minutes later, it was Hazzard's ball, and the offense took over. Luke grinned to see Maugul clap Bo on the shoulder on his way to the sidelines.

Maugul was new to coaching the football team this year, though he'd worked phys. ed. for the high school for years. It was soon very clear that he'd done something entirely new with the offense, and the Chickasaw coach was no longer smiling. Before long, the Hazzard QB brought the Hawks into the lead - then it was the job of Bo and his defense to keep them there. Over the next three quarters, the Hawks mopped the field with the Chickasaw Wildcats.

The roar of the Hazzard crowd was deafening when the head referee signaled the end of the game, and more than a few rushed into the field to celebrate with the team. Two someones dumped the remainder of the water cooler over the quarterback's head, while several Hawks were hoisted onto the shoulders of jubilant friends. Luke's return was lost in the victorious melee, and he was quite content to return to anonymity. He pushed and shoved his way through the crowd like everyone else, finally reaching the edge of the team where Bo stood facing the other direction. Luke tagged his elbow to get his attention, then clapped him on the back with a grin when he turned around.

"Good job, cuz!" he exclaimed.

Bo grinned as he pulled off his helmet - it was better praise than this whole crowd's shouting. "Thanks, Luke! Where's Daisy an' Uncle Jesse?"

"Aww, they're here somewhere - there they are!" Luke pointed to where the rest of the family waited at the fringe of the excited crowd.

"Well come on! Let's get on home!" Bo said, stepping in that direction.

"You don't want to stay with the team?" Luke knew this sort of public celebration often turned into a private one in someone's father's barn, which could last all afternoon and into the night. Luke also knew from his letters that Bo was often central to those private team celebrations, initiating as much fun and mischief as he could get away with.

"Nah!" Bo waved the comment off indifferently, still grinning. "It'll be the same old thing anyhow."

Funny, Bo hadn't tired of 'the same old thing' in three years, but Luke just smiled and followed him as he pushed through the crowd.

* * *

Luke made sure the entire conversation on the way home focused on Bo and his excellent - albeit belated - performance. He _was_ proud, and he wanted to make sure his little cousin knew it. Bo bemoaned his early mistakes, but Luke and Daisy were quick to point out several positively miraculous moves, and Bo beamed under the praise. By the time they reached the farm, Jesse thought he'd had enough football talk from the three cousins to satisfy him for a lifetime, and they were still going on. 

Shortly after going through the front door, though, Daisy broke things off, sending Bo to go shower and dress and promising to fix him an excellent celebratory lunch. She shooed Luke off too, when he offered to help, telling him to go relax for a while outside while Uncle Jesse gave her a hand. Smiling, he obeyed, shutting the front porch door behind him.

Twenty minutes later, freshly scrubbed and sporting a clean yellow shirt and blue jeans, Bo was hungrily sniffing around the kitchen. Daisy smacked his hand away from the fried chicken salad, and told him to go fetch Luke. Grinning, he obeyed, and made for the front door. Looking through the screen door, though, Bo stood there quietly, watching a fascinating sight.

Luke was sitting on the porch steps, his long legs stretched out to the dirt before him, looking out over the peaceful farm. Sitting there listening to the lunch preparations inside, he fell into an idle habit he'd developed many, many months back. Bo watched, amazed, as Luke absently twirled the blade of his K-bar knife between his fingers, spinning it across the back of his hand, flipping it up on end, and all manner of sleight of hand that had cost him more than a few nicks and cuts to learn.

Then Bo's stomach growled. In the same instant, Luke snatched up the knife with a neat toss and spun around, startled. The moment he saw his cousin, he swiftly sheathed the knife back in his boot. Bo reddened, feeling intrusive.

"Uhm…lunch is ready…" he hastily explained.

"Oh, alright," was all Luke said, climbing to his feet. He felt uneasy himself. Toying with the blade had become such a natural way to pass idle time, but suddenly it seemed very out of place here.

Luke quickly covered his discomfort, though, when he saw the spread Daisy and Jesse had quickly whipped up. He was impressed, and he said as much - fried chicken salad and corn fritters, with fresh biscuits and pumpkin and apple pie on the side. The pies were leftovers, of course, as was the fried chicken, but that didn't matter to Bo or Luke's stomach. Not a scrap was left by the end of the meal.

Sitting back was a satisfied sigh, Luke took a sip of lemonade. He was gonna run to fat if he kept eating like this - or rather, if Daisy kept piling food on his plate like this. That was one thing he could be thankful for, between his furlough time in Saigon and the two months guarding that field hospital - he'd gotten used to eating real food again, before coming home. He remembered the first time he'd tried to eat a cheeseburger, after months and months of chemically-heated MRE's - he'd retched for hours from just one bite. Same with his first Coke and his first beer. His most recent meals might have been few and far between, but at least they were identifiable as food.

"Hmm?" He realized Jesse had asked him a question.

"I said, what did you boys plan on doing this afternoon? It's a bright, beautiful day out, you should be out there enjoying it." At the game, Mr. Keller had told Jesse he wouldn't need Bo that day - though Jesse was sure the farmer was as pleased with Luke's homecoming as anyone else.

"Well, I, uh…I hadn't really thought about it," Luke said honestly, scratching the back of his head. Then he thought of something and looked up at Bo. "Has the fishing been any good?"

Bo grinned. "Well, Bear Paw Creek is full of trout, if the bears didn't get 'em all already."

Luke grinned back. "Fishing it is, then."

Jesse and Daisy both smiled, happy to see things getting back to normal so quickly.

* * *

Bear Paw Creek was running low and lazy, just deep enough at the tree-shaded bends to entice trout to rest in the cool water - and hopefully, to bite at a few well-placed lures. Bo was delighted when Luke agreed to go. The afternoon was warm, for a late October Saturday, and the dragonflies buzzed in the golden sunshine, but it wasn't the scenery that Bo was concerned with - he was just too happy to be hanging out with his older cousin again. 

It didn't bother Bo in the least that Luke only cast his line out two or three times before dozing off on the sandy riverbank, his black cowboy hat tipped over his eyes and his fishing line still trailing in the water. Right there beside him was a living, breathing Luke, and that was all that really mattered to Bo. He kept right on fishing, even caught a couple little ones, but he threw them back. It wasn't until Sheriff-shaped shadow cast over him that a bit of a damper was put on his afternoon.

"Allll-right, Bo Duke!" Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane chortled. "I want to see your fishing license, right now! And your friend too!" he added, with a less-than-gentle nudge to Luke's shoulder with his boot.

"Hey!" Bo protested as Luke woke with a jump, his hat toppling into the mud. Neither Bo nor Rosco saw him reach for his knife with one hand. Wary-eyed and tense for a fight, Luke looked up at his attacker, even before full awareness reached him. Blinking, he recognized the men standing over him, and re-sheathed the unnoticed knife.

"Luke Duke!" Rosco exclaimed, clearly surprised to see the Marine. Wait til' Boss heard this! "You're back!" He took a careful step backwards as Luke pulled himself to his feet. He was in no hurry to anger a war-hardened soldier. Then, after a moment, Rosco remembered that he _was_ the Sheriff, after all, and his badge stiffened his spine. "And you're fishing, so I need to see your fishing license - _both_ you Duke boys," he announced with an official air.

Bo held his out for inspection, cringing inwardly, because he knew Luke didn't have one and he knew Rosco would slap him with the steepest fine he could, if not outright arrest him. Rosco made a great show of reading over Bo's for every detail, but when he could find nothing wrong, he handed it back with a **hmph!**, twitching his bushy mustache. Then he looked at Luke, triumph in his eyes, and waited for Luke to make his excuses and beg for mercy. The eldest Duke cousin's answer wasn't quite what he expected.

"I don't _need_ a fishing license, Rosco," Luke finally said, with more than a hint of annoyance.

Rosco looked indignant. He wasn't born yesterday. "Well of course you do! There's your pole right there!"

With a sigh and a slight roll of his eyes, Luke recited slowly and clearly, as he would to a child: "According to the Georgia State Fishing Regulations, and I quote, 'A fishing license is not required for any United States soldier on leave or for two weeks following return from active duty, not to exceed a total of thirty days in any calendar year'. I just got back yesterday, so I've got until November ninth to fish free or buy a license."

Rosco gaped, in a fair imitation of the trout in the creek, trying to produce an adequate response. He wasn't about to call Luke Duke the Marine a liar, and come to think of it, he vaguely did recall reading that just before dozing off in his patrol car the other day.

"Well you…you…you just be sure to get one, then!" was all he could come up with.

Bo, who had been looking a little confused himself, grinned at the sheriff's thwarted sputtering. "Bye, Rosco!" he waved cheekily, then turned with Luke to retrieve his fishing rod.

As Rosco stomped off, Luke settled himself back at the base of the cottonwood tree. He had kept a straight face the whole time, but now he couldn't help but share a grin with Bo, and he chuckled a little. Then, dusting off his hat, he leaned back and dropped it over his eyes, fully intending to finish his nap.

**Boy, I nearly forgot ol' Rosco used to have that mustache! And Luke, he may have just got home, but he's as sharp as ever - nearly as sharp as that knife he carries everywhere, I reckon.**

* * *

"_One Friday night at a football game, the Lord's Prayer said and the anthem sang,  
And a man said, 'Folks, would you bow your head, for a list of the local Vietnam dead...'  
Cryin' all alone there under the stands was the piccolo player from the marchin' band  
And one name read, and nobody really cared...  
__But a pretty little girl, with a bow in her hair..."  
_- "Travelin Soldier" by the Dixie Chicks 


	4. Not Home Yet

**Author's Notes: Hey everyone! For those of you who haven't seen my profile - my computer is on the fritz again. Needs a new motherboard this time - joy. So updates may be intermittent. Bear with me. And I swear you'll see WRR updates as soon as I have some more time to write - because a certain Blue reader presented me with the most logical argument I've heard yet to convince me to write. What can I say, logic works where begging, pleading, and threats have failed. Let's see, two notes - one, Mr. Winterson is in fact named for my cousin, not for any theatrical lieutenants, in case you were wondering. Two, my thanks to Dierks Bentley for reminding me about Luke's dogtags - and if you can figure out _that_ connection, kudos to you:-D Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Not Home Yet**

"Hey Luke…"

He was instantly awake at the soft sound, though it took a moment longer for awareness of his surroundings to truly sink in. Warm, comfortable, soft grass, red dirt, burbling water - Bear Paw Creek, Hazzard, Home. The sunlight streaming through the trees had faded considerably since he'd closed his eyes, and he didn't think he'd slept that deeply and soundly in a long while. He was so relaxed, he considered just going back to sleep, but Bo wouldn't have woken him without a reason. Luke turned over to look up sleepily at his little cousin, who was holding their fishing poles, the tacklebox, and a string of trout.

"It's gettin' late," Bo told him softly. Luke was sleeping so heavily, he hated to wake him, but Uncle Jesse might be worried, they'd been out so long.

Luke nodded appreciatively and yawned, reluctantly pushing himself upright and groaning at his stiff muscles.

"Come on," Bo held out one hand to help him up. Luke took it gratefully, hauling himself up and dusting his clothes off. Searching around, he located his hat, which had fallen off into the mud again, and replaced it on his head. Then he looked up at Bo, who was waiting expectantly, and they started off down the path to the road where the truck waited.

Bo drove - he was a natural behind the wheel, Jesse said, and he took advantage of every bit of practice he could get. Luke had plenty of experience at 'shine-running and many other kinds of driving besides, so he was happy to leave Bo to do the 'work' for now. Then, as they rumbled along the county road, Luke's sharp eyes spotted something of interest.

"Hey, isn't that Cooter's truck?" he asked Bo, pointing into the parking lot of the Boar's Nest.

"Sure is," Bo confirmed, slowing down a little. "He must have just closed up shop for the day."

"Well, let's stop by and say Hi. We'll give Uncle Jesse a call inside, let him know where we are."

Bo readily agreed, a part of him hoping Luke might sneak him a beer, but no such luck. Once the truck was parked and Jesse was called, Luke ordered up a brew for himself and a root beer for Bo. Cooter was nowhere in sight just yet, but a few minutes later he emerged from the men's room.

"Lukas Dukas!" he cried out when he spotted the pair, breaking into a wide smile as he greeted his old friend. A slap on the back turned into a fierce Davenport bear-hug, which Luke readily returned. "I missed seeing your ugly mug around here!" the mechanic teased.

"Oh I doubt that," Luke teased right back. "I'm sure you were just miserable, turning away all the girls that used to chase after _me_!"

Still grinning from ear to ear at the unexpected surprise, Cooter ordered up a beer for himself and they found a table, anxious to catch up. Unfortunately, though, their conversation was interrupted time and again by some well-wisher stopping by to greet Luke, so they'd barely gotten started when Cooter frowned and muttered something under his breath, glancing at a new arrival.

"What is it?" Luke asked, half-laughing still over a previous comment.

"Trouble, with a capital D," Cooter explained. "Danny Winterson."

Luke recognized the name of one of his graduating class - a quiet, shy boy who'd unexpectedly joined the Army at the same time Luke joined the Marines - but he didn't understand Cooter's comment. When Bo frowned as well, Luke turned to look for himself, but he didn't need to. The Army infantryman had already spotted him.

"Luke Duke!" he growled in a distinctly unfriendly voice, though Luke didn't know if it was personal, or if he was just generally unfriendly. He approached the little bar table, shoving aside the chairs in his way and ignoring Bo and Cooter's frowns. "I heard you were back."

Luke looked up at the man who's addressed him. Though Luke's age, he appeared about ten years older, with grizzled, overgrown hair that hadn't seen a shower in a week and sallow, pale skin that hadn't seen the sun in a month. His clothes were at least as grubby, and the distinct smell of whiskey hung about his person like a noxious cloud. What drew Luke's attention most, though, was the crutch under his right arm, and the stump of his right leg, ending at the knee.

Swallowing back his discomfort, Luke stood, towering over the other man by half a foot. Bo was surprised by his response.

"Got home yesterday," Luke replied evenly, and held out his chair. "Want to sit with us, Danny?"

Winterson squinted at Luke almost suspiciously, ignoring the question. He was silent for several moments, looking the Marine up and down, while Bo and Cooter waited tensely. Luke was the very picture of calm. Then, lifting his crutch, Winterson tapped the side of Luke's right boot, right where his sheathed knife rode against his ankle. The man's lips curled in a small, mean smile.

"You ain't Home yet, Duke," he declared gruffly.

"Winterson!" a voice bellowed from the bar, interrupting the scene before Luke could respond. It was Harry, the bartender. "I told you to stay out of here! We don't want your kind of riff-raff here!"

Danny Winterson glared in his direction, then squinted back at Luke. Bo was relieved to see him stump off and out the door with a _humph!_ Luke still hadn't moved, standing behind his chair, staring after him with a frown of his own. Bo turned back to Cooter, but apparently Luke had other ideas.

"Come on, Bo," Luke finally said in a low voice. "Uncle Jesse and Daisy will be waiting on us for dinner. See ya later, Cooter."

Bo and Cooter both had identical expressions as they watched Luke start for the door - jaws hung open, blinking with surprise and confusion. Shrugging to Cooter, Bo got to his feet and trotted after Luke with a hasty goodbye.

* * *

"Don't worry about Danny Winterson," Bo was telling Luke on the drive home. "He's been causing trouble all over town since he got back, but Rosco won't arrest him, no matter how drunk he gets, 'cause he was…" He trailed off into silence, glancing over at Luke, who didn't appear to be listening. Instead, Luke was staring out the window, with the same thoughtful frown on his face. Bo sighed and gave up. 

Luke had the same expression dampening his features a little later at the farm as he sat at the kitchen table, vacantly looking at nothing in particular. Daisy was cooking the fish fillets Bo had contributed to dinner, while Bo and Jesse worked on the evening chores outside. Luke had tried to join them, but Jesse waved him off, and he was left with nothing to do but think. After about ten minutes of working around her silent cousin and his serious expression, Daisy decided it was _too_ quiet, and she patted Luke's shoulder.

"You with us there, Luke?" she asked lightly, playfully.

Frowning deeper, his response was anything but playful. "I don't know…" Then Luke blinked and looked up, summoning a smile for his lady cousin. "Sorry, Dais'. Just thinking, is all. How's dinner coming along? Need a hand?"

Daisy smiled and accepted the offer of help, setting him to smushing the lumps out of the mashed potatoes.

* * *

After dinner, Luke was back to relaxing on the porch, while Jesse helped Daisy with the dinner dishes inside. Bo had disappeared somewhere or another, but Luke was sure he wouldn't be gone for long. His animated chatter at dinner had quickly turned Luke's thoughts away from the worrisome questions brought up by Danny Winterson, and now Luke had a whole other set of ideas to think about. 

"Oh, Luke, I gotta show you the Gazette after dinner!" Bo had exclaimed somewhere in the conversation. Jesse and Daisy smiled, knowing exactly what this was about.

"What's in the Gazette?" Luke asked curiously. There wasn't much important that Bo hadn't told him in letters, but his little cousin sure seemed excited about this one. "Don't tell me someone's got hound pups for sale…" he trailed off, seeing Bo nearly jumping on the edge of his seat. No, not hound pups. What, then?

The blond looked appealingly at Jesse, who nodded permission, and Bo was off like a shot to the bedroom to fetch the latest copy of the North Georgia Gazette. In another moment, he was back, opening it to a well-thumbed page and handing it to Luke. Bo grinned broader, if possible, as he watched his elder cousin's eyes widen when Luke read over the advertisement. With raised eyebrows, imagining the possibilities, Luke looked up and opened his mouth to speak - but Bo beat him to it.

"I've got more than five hundred dollars saved up," Bo told him proudly, enjoying his surprise. "Just a couple more months, another six hundred dollars…Luke, you can just see it, can't you? Our car!"

Luke's expression of surprise spread into a grin and a chuckle, feeding off Bo's excitement. Yes, he _could_ see it…just like they'd always talked about…dreamed about…and here was one dream dangling tantalizingly close. All he had to do was reach out and grasp it… Luke shook his head as he grinned, reading over the ad one more time in wonder.

"Bo…I can do you one better than that…" Luke chuckled, looking up again with a surprise of his own. All eyes rested on him expectantly. "They did _pay me_ in the Marines, and I didn't spend _that_ much of it - whaddaya say we go pick this engine up Monday, split the cost, fifty-fifty?"

Bo's joyful response was unmistakable - with a whoop, he leaped up and wrapped Luke in a delighted hug, then Uncle Jesse, then he danced around the table to hug Daisy too.

"_After_ school, and your chores," Jesse reminded him, but he was smiling himself, watching Bo settle back into his seat. He was sure if someone suggested it, Bo would be happy to run right out and pick it up this very minute.

Now Luke rocked idly on the porch swing, every so often looking down at the gazette ad in his hands. After dinner, he'd called the owner and made an offer on the engine, then made arrangements to pick it up Monday afternoon. With too much energy to stay inside, Bo had taken off running around behind the barn somewhere. He hadn't returned yet, leaving Luke to muse over the days of tinkering and machinework to come.

The sharp report of a shotgun blast snapped Luke out of his reverie. He was on his sore feet in an instant, every sense alert and straining for more information. It had come from around the far side of the barn, with no warning and no resulting shout or howl of pain. A moment later, the front porch door opened, and Jesse calmly joined Luke, watching the farmyard expectantly with none of his nephew's keyed-up tension. It wasn't long before Luke's ears picked up the soft thuds of Bo's booted feet on the packed earth beside the barn, and his younger cousin came into view, carrying a shotgun over one shoulder and an annoyed expression.

"Well, did you get him?" Jesse asked, though he could read the answer on Bo's face. Luke's eyes darted from his uncle to his cousin, clearly bewildered and not much liking it.

"No…I swear, I had him right in my sights, too!" Bo protested, frowning at the firearm in his hand. "That's the third time I've missed him! At least he won't come back tonight, now."

"Don't be so sure of that," Jesse countered as Bo joined them on the steps. "He's got a taste for chicken, and he'll keep coming until we stop him."

Luke blinked, then realized this perplexing conversation must be referring to the raccoon Uncle Jesse mentioned had been going after the chickens. The henhouse was on the south side of the barn, just out of sight from the front porch. Looking down at the shotgun Bo carried, Luke recalled his cousin's comment moments earlier, and he thought like a Marine.

"Had him in your sights?" Luke asked, reaching for the gun, which Bo readily surrendered. With experienced hands, he disarmed it, then started examining the barrel, chamber, and trigger mechanism. "When was the last time this old thing was cleaned out and looked at?"

Jesse was surprised at the question. He kept all his guns in good working order, regularly oiled and cleaned, and Luke knew it well. He said as much when he answered the question. "Just last week…that shotgun's in fine condition," the Duke patriarch objected.

With keen eyes intent on the weapon, Luke sat back on the porch swing, pulling out a handkerchief. "Yeah," he agreed absently. "But it's so old, the barrel can build up…ah-ha! There…" He spotted the slight imperfection that was throwing off the precision of the aim. He knew Bo wasn't such a bad marksman that he couldn't hit a raccoon at thirty paces. Taking his knife from his boot, he expertly scraped at the metal of the gun barrel with the knife tip. He frowned as he worked, noticing other spots that could use some work as well. This was gonna take a while…

Jesse and Bo watched for a few minutes as their Marine silently worked at decades of wear on the old shotgun with knife and cloth. They were both startled when Luke broke the silence to ask for the gun oil and a few other items, which Jesse moved to get, instead of sending Bo.

Bo watched for several more minutes, amazed at the…_change_ would probably be the best word…in his cousin. The young man sitting here on the porch swing wasn't the smiling, laughing cousin of his younger days, nor the tired but contented cousin of this afternoon - this Luke was all business, and his business was guns.

To Luke, this was the most useful thing he'd done all afternoon. When he was finished, this old beauty would peg a 'coon square on at two hundred yards, with enough power to knock the critter clear into the next farmstead. As he worked, he was vaguely aware of Uncle Jesse settling into the creaky old rocking chair far to his left, and Bo sitting down somewhere on the steps to his right. It was a fair evening - gentle breeze and golden sunset, family close by, comfortable - though that comfortable feeling came as much from solid steel in his hands as from his surroundings.

So focused on his work was Luke that it was some time before a flicker of motion caught the corner of his eye, and he paused to look up, oil rag in hand. He watched Bo for half a moment before a stern frown creased his brow. As Luke set down the shotgun, Bo dropped the K-bar mid-way through a fumbled twirl, and the knife clattered to the porch step. For a good ten minutes, he'd been trying to replicate Luke's skill at handling the blade, with limited success. Now the blond looked up at Luke wide-eyed as the Marine bent down to retrieve it, and Luke returned Bo's startled look with the same stern frown. Without a word, he re-sheathed the knife in his boot, and returned to the porch swing and the shotgun.

* * *

It was dark when the steady sounds of scraping, polishing, and smoothing suddenly stopped. Bo and Jesse both looked up from their respective seats on the porch to see Luke studying his handiwork. With a satisfied nod, he picked up a few shells and loaded the shotgun, cocked it, then stood and strode down from the porch to test it. Bo was quick to jump to his feet and follow. 

Luke stopped about halfway to the woods on the far side of the barn, glancing up briefly as Bo joined him.

"Pick a target," Luke instructed, pointing towards the fence and the woods just beyond it.

"Uhm…" Bo said, scanning for a good mark. "That old stump, over there."

Luke made a face. "Farther than that!"

Bo looked skeptical, but he looked again. "Okay…the dead branch on that box elder." He was pleased when Luke nodded, then raised the shotgun to his shoulder. **_BAM!_** The end of the branch was gone in a flutter of brown leaves.

Smiling with satisfaction, Luke ejected the spent shell and handed Bo the shotgun. "Here, you try. Careful, it's got a kick now."

Bo picked a somewhat closer target, aimed, and fired. He grinned when the shot hit dead-on, and looked down at the gun, rubbing his shoulder with one hand. "Wow! It's hard to believe it's the same gun! This is great, Luke!"

Luke's smile had faded, though, the moment Bo had taken the shotgun from his hand. It was all he could do to keep from grabbing it right back, and keep his little cousin from ever firing.

"Boys!" Jesse called just then from the porch. "It's getting late! Time for bed!"

"Coming, Uncle Jesse!" Bo called back. Still grinning, he clapped Luke on the shoulder, and they both headed for the farmhouse.

Jesse and Daisy were both waiting on the front porch as the boys approached, and their 'goodnight's were combined with another series of hugs all around. Before he turned in for the night, however, Luke had one more thing to talk about with his family. It had been nagging at him all day, since he'd realized he'd fallen asleep the day before without warning them.

"Look, ah - Uncle Jesse, Daisy, Bo…" he began, getting their attention. "I might…if I…" Exactly how did one go about saying this? "Don't…wake me up," he finally said lamely.

Misunderstanding, Daisy smiled and patted his arm. "Oh, it's alright, Luke! You can sleep as late as you want!"

Luke shook his head. "No…I mean…if I'm asleep, and it looks like I'm…having a bad dream…don't try to wake me up. Don't…just don't."

Comprehension dawned on Jesse, and he nodded solemnly, but Bo and Daisy just looked confused.

"Promise me," Luke insisted, looking at his cousins.

"Well, okay, Luke," Bo agreed, still not understanding. Daisy nodded likewise, with the same baffled expression.

Satisfied, Luke gave them a small, reassuring smile, and hugged all three each one more time before Jesse ushered them all back inside.

Bo followed Luke down the hall, and they both undressed and got ready for bed like any other day of their lives. It made Luke's head spin, thinking how some things seemed so completely normal one minute, and completely out of place the next. Like now, when Bo was climbing under his covers, looking at Luke with a thoughtful expression that he'd never seen on his younger cousin before. Then Bo noticed Luke noticing that he was looking at him oddly, and the blond quickly flashed him a grin and said goodnight, settling into bed. Luke smiled back and got into bed himself. Soon he was stretched out, hands folded behind his head, and he was staring up at the ceiling, thinking.

Bo lay awake for a little while as well, thinking and glancing at Luke out of the corner of his eye. It was great to have him back, but it would take some getting used to, too. Sometimes it was good ol' Luke he was talking to, and sometimes Bo saw a stranger acting like Luke and not quite succeeding - like the way he wore a t-shirt to bed, because he felt cold in the sixty-degree weather, or the business with the knife. Especially the business with the knife. It didn't take an unusually perceptive person to realize the K-bar hadn't been more than three feet from his cousin since his arrival home, and then only when his boots were off and he was in bed.

It was just strange at first, but it was starting to nag at Bo on a deeper level, especially when he watched Luke arrange his boots within arm's reach of the mattress, and check the distance before he settled back under the blankets. Who was he afraid of, here in Hazzard? He was home, not off at war. Uncle Jesse didn't even lock the front door. They kept that shotgun in the house, but it hung in the living room by the bows, and they only used it to hunt. And with Luke around, well, there wasn't a person in Hazzard who would try their luck against the Marine, once they heard he was back.

Bo sure felt safer anyhow. He'd had a hard time sleeping well, all alone in their room with that bed empty, after a lifetime of falling asleep to the sound of Luke's steady breathing. So maybe that was why he drifted off so easily and slept so soundly again tonight, snoring softly and content that whatever might be different about him, his older cousin was finally home for good.

* * *

Luke still lay awake a good hour after Bo dropped off. He stared at the ceiling, tracing familiar patterns in the cracked paint with his eyes. Finally, he decided he was too wide-awake to lay there any longer, and he quietly got up and slipped back into his jeans. 

Earlier, he'd been too tired to notice or care about the strangeness of being back in his own bed. Now, though, it was too quiet in the farmhouse, the mattress too comfortable, the pillow too soft. He kept waiting for something to happen. To double his unease, his internal clock was still set to Golf time – Vietnam time – and right now, if it were dusk there, his day would just be beginning.

Twenty-two months ago, Luke had been field-promoted by the unanimous decision of his unit after the death of their immediate commanding officer, and he had gotten all ten men safely back behind the lines. The field promotion stuck, and soon he found himself in charge of regular patrols of the lines as well as advance scout teams probing the enemy position. Quite unintentionally, he distinguished himself as particularly capable of leading nighttime operations – his commanders called it skill, but Luke chalked it up to all those nights sneaking around revenuers and working Uncle Jesse's forest stills. So just like that, Luke found himself consistently handed nighttime assignments, whenever the situation called for them.

So now, not only were his surroundings too strange, but for Luke, this was the time of day to be active, not sleeping. As soon as he was dressed, boots laced, he made for the door, but not before Bo stirred, sensing the movement.

"Luke?" came the boy's sleepy voice through the darkness. "Where ya goin'?"

"Just out for a walk," Luke answered softly. "Go back to sleep."

"Oh, m'kay."

Bo was snoring again when Luke slipped out the door and closed it behind him.

Outside in the cool October night air, Luke took a deep breath, taking in the view from the front porch. The fields and trees were bathed in darkness, dimly lit by a sliver of waning crescent moon, and a light breeze stirred the red-orange leaves hanging onto the branches. He paused for a moment on the porch steps, reflexively surveying left and right with eyes and ears, before setting off down the driveway.

When Luke reached the trees at the end of the drive bordering the Duke property, he stopped, peering into the dark shadows. Once more he felt the absence of his rifle, disturbingly missing the cold metal that hadn't been more than a few feet from him at any given time since leaving boot camp. Instead, Luke stopped to shift his knife from his boot to his belt, securing it in easy reach before setting off into the woods.

He hadn't really had a plan when he left the farmhouse, just intending to go for a walk to clear his head, but as he walked along, Luke realized he was more relaxed now that he had been in several days, months even, since before that sniper. He let habit take over, stealthily creeping through the undergrowth and between the trees, avoiding the game trails and deer paths, his every sense alert for movement and life all around: the solemn hoots and soft wingbeats of owls met his ears, the smells of sweet hay and heavy manure drifted on the wind from the barn, the trickle of the creek as he reached the northern border of the property and turned east, the occasional squeak or scurry of some rodent underfoot. All these were Home too, and comforting in their own way. The chilly night air ceased to bother him as his activity warmed him, and the long-sleeved blue-plaid shirt provided warmth of its own.

In this manner, Luke made a complete circuit of the entire Duke property, not once disturbed by a single abnormal event. It took him several hours, not only because of the vast acreage, but also because his gait was slowed by fatigue. It would be some while before he regained his previous endurance, since his hospital stay.

Finally, when Luke was satisfied that all was well, his family safe and base camp secure, he turned up the driveway and headed back to the farmhouse on wary, silent cat-feet.

* * *

Anyone looking in on him would know it was a nightmare. He tossed and turned restlessly, muttering in his sleep, and the blankets had long since fallen off the bed in a tangled mess. In the early morning hours before dawn, the chilly night air set his skin ashiver, but it wasn't the cold that woke him. 

"No!" he cried softly, almost to himself, bolting upright in bed. Anxious eyes searched the room and strained to listen for activity in the farmhouse. _There_ - footsteps. Then a deep, dry cough, that went on for a few minutes until a glass of water quieted it.

Jesse climbed to his feet and found his slippers, quickly wrapping a robe around his shoulders. He knew those muted footsteps weren't Bo or Daisy, and he was soon walking through the farmhouse, afraid with every step that his nightmare would turn into reality, and Luke would leave again. His worry quickened when he found the living room and kitchen empty, but he breathed an audible sigh of relief when he spotted the young man standing on the front porch, leaning on the rail and looking out at the night.

"Everything alright, Luke?" Jesse asked, stepping out onto the porch and letting the screen door close behind him.

Luke looked up, a little surprised and spooked that he'd allowed his uncle to sneak up on him. He hadn't really been paying attention, deep in thought and watching the night as he cooled off from his jaunt through the countryside. His long-sleeved shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, hanging open to let the sheen of sweat he'd worked up evaporate into the cool air. His battered dogtags still dangled around his neck, never removed since the day he was issued them more than three years prior.

"Just fine, Uncle Jesse," Luke answered, after pausing a few seconds too long. "Couldn't sleep, is all."

"Nightmares?" Jesse asked gently. He'd barely spoken the word when Luke shifted and turned towards him, and for the briefest moment, the kitchen light illuminated his bare chest between the folds of his shirt. A small, round, puckered scar stood out fresh and pink against the pale white skin of his lower right ribs. Jesse's heart leaped in his throat as he recognized the bullet wound, and in his shock he nearly missed hearing Luke's answer.

"Naw, I just couldn't fall asleep." Luke turned again, leaning on the railing, and darkness once more concealed his secret. "It's so quiet…" he observed softly, looking out into the night again. Then, to his surprise, Luke found himself swept into a fierce, tight hug. Jesse maintained his hold for several long minutes, and when he finally released his nephew, keeping one arm around his shoulders, the young man blinked at him in bewilderment.

"Had a few nightmares of my own," Jesse admitted by way of explanation. As quickly as he recognized the wound, he realized Luke must have his reasons for saying nothing of it to his family, and the Duke patriarch wasn't willing to push the issue and push him away.

Nodding understanding, Luke returned to the rail, while his uncle stood close and companionably beside him. After a little while, he'd cooled off enough to feel the chill of the night air again, and Jesse felt the shiver run through him, accompanied by a few more dry coughs. The elder Duke frowned in the darkness, now recognizing the occasional cough for what it was, and his role as a paternal caretaker took over.

"Well, it's getting late," Jesse announced, "and I _know_ you need your sleep. It's well past time for you to be in bed, and we've got church bright and early in the morning. Come on, now," he added insistently as Luke started to hesitate, but orders were orders, and the young man didn't hesitate for long.

Jesse followed him inside and saw him into bed, hugging him again and kissing his brow as Luke said his goodnights. The Marine yawned heavily as Jesse settled the blankets over him, more tired than he expected after his unanticipated night patrol. He was already drifting off as his uncle shut the bedroom door and returned to his own bed for a few more hours of sleep.

* * *

"_You can't hide from your demons…feel them all lurking around  
__You're runnin' scared, 'cause you know they're out there  
__They're waitin' for the sun to go down..."  
_**- "Bones" by Little Big Town**


	5. Love Thy Enemy

**Author's Notes: Hey everyone! Well, my computer is definitely fried, and fortunately it's not the hard drive, it's the motherboard - and my computer is becoming as well-traveled as I am, because I just shipped it to my dad in Florida to get it fixed. That leaves me dependent on work computers, library computers, and the good will of my housemates and thier laptops to get anything done. SO, I've got two chapters fully typed in files in my e-mail that I can access (thank God for beta readers!), and much much more written in a notebook and NOT typed - so as soon as I can get it done, I swear I will. For now, hopefully this chapter will tide you over for a bit - or not, since it's an evil cliffhanger right there at the end. :-D I'll plan to post again probably Monday or Tuesday, so no, begging won't help. ;) Thanks everyone!**

**

* * *

Chapter 5: Love Thy Enemy**

"_Better hold on tight…here comes the night…"  
_- 'Bones' by Little Big Town

* * *

As usual, Jesse was the first awake in the morning, true to his lifelong habit of waking at dawn despite his midnight activity. This was Sunday, man's day of rest, but a farmer's work was never done, and the chickens and goats always needed tending. 

This morning, dressed and on his way to the kitchen to start the coffee on the stove, Jesse paused at the door to the boys' bedroom, unable to resist checking on his long-missed nephew. He eased the bedroom door open as gently as he could and peered in. The early dawn light snuck in through the curtained window and lit the bedroom with soft light, revealing young Bo sound asleep among his blankets, snoring softly. Luke, however, wasn't sleeping so soundly.

A deep frown creased his brow, and the occasional twitch tightened his jaw and eyelids. Jesse also couldn't help but notice the occasional twitch in his right hand, lying across his belly, as his trigger finger contracted and fired at long-dead foes. He made no sound, nor any wild movements, even in sleep protecting himself from the enemy.

"Luke…" Jesse called into the room gently. Then louder, firmer, "Luke."

Ocean blue eyes flew open and looked around, only recognizing the room and his uncle after many muddled blinks.

"It was just a dream, son. Go back to sleep."

A few more sleepy blinks, then his eyes drifted shut again, fading into friendlier dreams.

* * *

It was after Bo had finished the morning chores, after Daisy had cooked breakfast, and after Jesse helped her wash the dishes, when Luke sleepily stumbled out into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing the rough stubble on his jaw. Wearing a t-shirt and boxers, he found a chair and gave Daisy a grateful smile as she set down the plate she'd kept aside for him. While he took his time eating, his cousins and uncle all took their turn at the shower, cleaning up and dressing in their Sunday best. That left them all waiting on Luke forty minutes later, as he quickly dried off, tended his feet, and dug through the closet for a set of nice clothes that still fit him. Finally, tugging at the tight, starched collar, he emerged from the bedroom ready to go, and they went. 

The drive to church was filled with the same excited chatter that had filled each meal and idle moment since Friday afternoon, but if Luke was quieter this morning, only Jesse noticed. The Marine responded to the banter, smiling and joking in return, but his eyes told a different story, distant and thoughtful. He lost the thread of the conversation entirely as they turned into the church parking lot, reading the topic of the week's sermon on the announcement board: 'Forgiveness'. Bo was quick to punch his cousin's shoulder and tease him back to reality, which Luke returned with a grin and a gentled punch of his own.

As the Duke family headed for their seats mid-way along the left column of pews, Luke was subject to a similar reception as at the football field. There was no applause, but every elderly matron and callus-handed farmer in Hazzard seemed to want to shake his hand and smile approvingly at his warm response. It wasn't until the front doors were closed and the reverend stepped up to the pulpit that the crowd around him seemed to settle out and quiet down.

As Reverend Jones began to speak, Luke relaxed in his seat at the end of the pew, content to finally be returning to the Sunday morning tradition that had been as constant in his life as the rising of the sun. The Dukes weren't front-row Baptists, but they had their faith and held their trust in the Lord to see them through good times and bad. Sunday morning church was a weekly affirmation of faith and a lesson in the guiding principles of the Good Book, and despite the times it got tedious following a late Saturday night, Luke found he'd missed it in his time away – not that he didn't find plenty of occasion and need for prayer in those thirty-eight months.

Listening to the reverend now, however, began to fill Luke with tension again. 'Forgiveness' in a religious sense could cover many topics, but the particular topic of this sermon was forgiveness between enemies - patience, turn the other cheek, and the like. Certainly the reverend didn't mean Luke or the war in Vietnam specifically, and he might have selected a whole other topic if he knew of Luke's homecoming, but there was no other meaning Luke could see in his words just now. And everything he heard told him his every action in the last three years had been _wrong_.

Ten minutes into the sermon, Luke had heard all he could take. Without a word or a glance to anyone, he stood and silently walked out, shutting the door carefully and quietly behind him.

Bo started to go after him, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he looked up at his uncle with a mixture of worry and confusion. Jesse gave him a look that clearly said _Stay_ - he was worried himself, but determined to give Luke the space and time to get a handle on whatever upset him. Then he turned to Daisy, who held a similar worried expression, and he patted her hand reassuringly, before returning most of his attention to the reverend's sermon. Fifteen minutes later, as the choir began leading a hymn, Jesse motioned to his niece and nephew, and they all quietly slipped out of the pew. More than a few eyes followed their departure.

Outside, all three immediately began looking for their Marine, but he wasn't hard to find. Across the road, a trickling stream fed a modest duck pond, and Luke was skipping rocks expertly across the surface, his collar unbuttoned and tie untied. He glanced over briefly as his family approached, but continued skipping rocks as they stopped and watched unspeaking, until the handful he'd gathered was gone. Finally, Luke took a deep breath and turned around.

"Sorry, Uncle Jesse. I just, uh…" he faltered, failing to think of an adequate excuse.

Jesse just put a sympathetic arm around his nephew's tense shoulders. "Let's go on home."

The drive back from church was decidedly quiet.

* * *

Luke was certain he was losing it. 

After spending a quiet morning around the farmhouse, some of Bo's football buddies dropped by and invited both Duke cousins to a friendly pickup game. Luke wasn't especially interested, but Bo's enthusiasm was infectious, and his elder cousin went along for his sake. Most of the varsity team was there, as well as a few of Luke's old high school friends, and some other stragglers who tagged along, and the game quickly heated up.

The fun lasted about five minutes, until Luke had possession of the ball, and threw a pass to his cousin. There weren't many similarities between a pigskin and a grenade, but Luke's trembling hands recognized the same arc and thrust of the throw. It was the end of the game for him.

Ten minutes later, the other bystanders in the bleachers were staring at him as he leaped to his feet, his heart pounding with wide eyes glued to the cloudless blue sky. A news helicopter had flown by in the distance, hurrying to a breaking story somewhere more exciting than Hazzard.

Now Luke sat uneasily in the passenger seat of the old white pickup, the fingers of his right hand restlessly straying to the handle of his knife as he stared out the window, trying to understand why his eyes saw Georgia countryside when the rest of him felt North Pacific jungle. Bo, extracted from the game not even halfway through, glanced fretfully at his cousin between watching the road. He didn't know what was wrong and he didn't understand why Luke insisted on going home early, but he didn't like it one bit.

Jesse was away at one of the stills when Bo pulled the pickup into the driveway, but Daisy was home, and one look at her cousins told her something was wrong. As he shut the truck door, Bo watched with puzzled eyes as Luke walked off without a word. He didn't go far - into the barn, and up into the hayloft, the blond suspected. Bo didn't follow him. Uncle Jesse seemed to think his eldest nephew needed a little space, and he was willing to respect that - for now.

* * *

It was dinnertime, two hours later, before Daisy was sent in search of Luke. Once more, he wasn't hard to find - he'd made himself comfortable among the bales of hay in the loft of the barn and stayed there, thinking. Climbing the ladder, Daisy peeked her head over the edge of the loft to get his attention. 

'_Bo was right to be worried_,' she thought to herself, looking at where her cousin sat in the corner of the loft, arms loosely wrapped around his knees, with a somber, troubled expression that would put a basset hound to shame.

"Dinner's ready," Daisy informed Luke aloud.

He turned his head slightly in her direction to meet her eyes, then went back to staring at the square of blue sky through the open hayloft doors. Daisy hung there on the ladder, a little surprised that Luke had hardly even acknowledged her presence, but after a long, silent moment he stiffly rose to his feet to follow her down and outside. She smiled then - dinner was another of his favorites, and she had worked on it half the afternoon for him.

Daisy smiled broader when they walked into the farmhouse together and she saw Luke's nose twitch, smelling the delicious aroma of venison roast with gravy and potatoes, and apple pie for dessert, all laid out on the table and waiting for him. Bo and Jesse sat waiting expectantly at the table, and Bo's expression clearly said he was glad Luke had come in; whether because he was hungry or because he was just happy to see him, Luke didn't know.

In any case, the obvious effort of the hearty meal on the table and the sight of his family was enough to shake Luke from the brooding mood he'd been in all day, and an honest smile lightened his care-lined features. What was there to worry about, when this - his family and their love - was always here for him? Daisy, Bo, and Jesse smiled between themselves as Luke went to wash up.

* * *

The rest of the evening passed in happy, sharp contrast to the uneasy morning and afternoon. When dinner was over and the leftovers put away - there were few of those, the way Luke devoured his food - and the dishes were stacked in the sink, Jesse suggested the boys get out their guitars, and play for a spell on the porch. Bo jumped at the suggestion, and Luke was pretty enthusiastic himself - he missed his old guitar, and he'd only rarely gotten his hands on a six-string overseas. 

The next hour was spent carefully tuning the treasured instruments, before the boys really started strumming in earnest. Luke was a little rusty, his hands more accustomed to other uses, so he stuck to the simpler background chords while Bo sang and played the more complicated riffs. Luke was impressed by the skill Bo had gained, and he exchanged smiles with Jesse, listening to his little cousin. When Luke left, Bo was still squeaking occasionally when he talked and sang.

The family guitar session went on as dusk fell, until Luke made the mistake of yawning partway through a slow, drawling version of Gene Autry's 'Tumbling Tumbleweeds'. Right about then, Jesse announced that it was getting late, and there were chores to tend to before bedtime. Daisy went inside to wash the dinner dishes, and Bo set his guitar aside to go take care of the animals. When Luke got up to join his cousin, Bo stopped him.

"I got 'em, Luke," he insisted.

Before Luke could respond, Jesse noticed that the normal background clucking of the chickens had taken on a decidedly nervous tone. He frowned and started in the direction of the coop on the far side of the barn, followed by Bo. When the nervous clucking became shrieks of outrage, Jesse shouted and broke into a jog, wishing he had his shotgun handy - that danged raccoon was back, and by the sound of it, he'd gotten one of the hens.

Jesse and Bo hadn't yet reached the barn when a swift shadow overtook and passed them, disappearing around the corner of the barn. An instant later, a shotgun blast cracked through the quiet evening air. Uncle and nephew turned the corner to see Luke standing with the gun to his shoulder, eyeing the motionless bulk of the thieving raccoon some hundred yards away, near the edge of the woods. A newly dead chicken lay on the dirt beside him. When he was sure the coon was dead, Luke lowered the shotgun and looked up at Bo and Jesse's approach.

"Whoo!" Bo whooped excitedly, running over to get a good look at his arch nemesis. "That's him alright! Thievin' rascal!"

Jesse and Luke strolled over to have a look. He sure was a big one, well-fed on his steady diet of Uncle Jesse's chickens.

"What are you doin'?" Jesse asked as Bo pulled out his pocket knife and started unfolding it.

"Oh, I promised Eli Keller I'd make him a cap with the skin, when I got him - though, I guess it's Luke's kill…"

Luke shrugged. "He can have it, I got no use for it."

"Well, don't skin it right here, you'll just attract coyotes, and I don't want anything else getting into the chickens. Take him over into the woods and skin him there, _after_ you get the chickens cooped and take care of the animals for the night," Jesse instructed.

Bo hesitated, and Luke stepped in. "I'll skin the coon, you go take care of the chickens."

"You sure?"

"I got nothing else to do, since you won't let me help with the chores."

Bo grinned, and trotted off to hurry through his chores. With a look to his uncle, Luke took the raccoon in one hand and the dead chicken in the other, and headed for the tree line to gather the hide and dispose of the remains.

Skinning a raccoon is not exactly a clean, neat procedure, so when Luke returned to the barn where Bo waited, he had fresh blood all over his hands, plus the odd stain on his jeans and shirt. He handed Bo the rolled coon hide to stretch, scrape, and dry, then went to the well spigot to wash up. Luke was just finishing scrubbing his hands and knife when Bo joined him, having made quick work of lashing the hide to the waiting frame to dry. Bo grinned, pleased that Luke's marksmanship had finally taken out the troublesome animal, but Luke didn't seem to be nearly as pleased or impressed. In fact, he was frowning again, and when Bo headed into the farmhouse, Luke didn't follow.

"Coming, Luke?" he asked curiously. It was well past dark by now, and he had school in the morning. Besides, tomorrow was the day - the day they would finally get the engine he'd been working so hard for these last five months.

"I'll be in in a bit," was Luke's answer. By the glow of the kitchen light inside, he could barely see his little cousin, but it was enough to see Bo's doubtful expression.

"Alright, Luke. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Bo."

Luke settled himself onto the porch swing, looking out across the quiet farm, and smiling a little when he saw the guitars standing on the corner of the porch. The smile quickly fell. The smell of blood from the raccoon disturbed him on many levels, not the least because it was so familiar that he couldn't even attach it to any one incident or memory. The blood of foe and friend alike had stained his hands, and the strong scent carried with it the images of too many hand-to-hand fights, where his knife had found an artery or vital organ moments before his enemy did the same, or the aftermath of pitched firefights, when his knife cut shirts into bandages and attempted to staunch mortal wounds.

Luke shivered, and not from the cold.

The farmhouse was quiet. Daisy and Jesse had said their goodnights, and his uncle didn't press him to head for bed himself. The Duke patriarch knew it had been a hard day for him, even if he didn't understand all the reasons why. A little quiet time would do him good.

It wasn't long before Luke started feeling restless again, sitting on the porch swing. The sliver of moon from the night before was gone, and the black night was stiflingly menacing. It was a vulnerable feeling Luke didn't like, sitting here guarding the Duke farmhouse without any reconnaissance telling him what was out there beyond the limits of his vision, without any other Marines on sentry to watch the other three sides of the building, without his rifle in his hands, loaded and ready. Finally, he had enough of sitting there, and, like the night before, Luke set off down the driveway with his knife tucked in his belt.

From the farmhouse, a pair of soulful blue eyes watched him disappear into the darkness.

* * *

Luke stalked through the dark forest of the Duke farm on silent, aching feet. His eyes strained to see the shades of black that differentiated a looming tree from an open space, and the skin and muscles of his legs strained to feel the brush of a branch or bush that might rattle and give away his presence. These were the worst sorts of nights - pitch black and dead quiet, and thick with tension as the Marine anticipated danger from every angle. There were no snipers or distant gunfire on nights like this - instead, Charlie would lay in wait for a patrol to pass by, then attack their exposed backs by knifepoint with fatal speed. Every _skritch_ of mouse feet or _whoof_ of owl wings sent a twitch of tension through Luke, until he dismissed it as nonlethal. 

Then, somewhere behind him, a twig snapped.

_Thirty feet_, Luke thought, and looked around at his options. _Thud thud thud_ coming closer. In an instant, he was scaling the cottonwood off to his right, to keep from being surrounded, and he crouched on a low, heavy branch some ten feet off the ground, squinting into the darkness with his knife at the ready. Panting breath, now, coming from below…a little closer…a little closer…_there_.

With experienced silence, Luke dropped down from the tree branch, arcing his knife down to slash across the throat of his attacker.

**You know, I'm hoping that's a coyote sneaking up on him - or maybe a bear - 'cause if it's anything without a whole lot of teeth and claws, it's not gonna stand a chance against ol' Luke.**

* * *


	6. Near Miss

**Author's Notes: Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay - the usual excuses. The good news is, I've gotten another four chapters written and typed up and sent off to my wonderful editors, and all that good writing is on a nice convenient USB stick instead of on my ornery computer in Florida, which means quicker updates, I promise. Happy reading!**

**  
Chapter 6: Near Miss**

"Luke!"

Luke checked the swing of his knife the instant he saw the blond mop of hair through the darkness, and he was afraid for a moment it was still too late, too close. Frightened by the sudden movement, Bo stumbled backwards and fell on his rump, but it was obvious the knife had done no harm, nor did he even see the slash of the blade, as he got to his feet. Luke helped him up, reeling under the shock of discovering it was Bo who'd followed him into the woods, and Bo he'd very nearly killed. Then his shock and fear quickly turned in a direction he knew how to run with - anger.

"Bo! What on earth are you _doing_ out here this time of night?.!" Luke bellowed in his best ranking officer's voice, as he might roar at a foolish young recruit.

"I…I came looking for you, Luke," Bo reasoned, but Luke wasn't interested in reason. His little cousin had just scared him three shades of gray.

"You came looking for me?.! What the hell were you thinking?.! Or _were_ you even thinking? You're supposed to be in bed! You've got school in the morning, and don't think you're skipping! I swear I oughta turn you over my knee myself!"

Bo might have been truly frightened had he seen the ferocious look Luke was giving him, but the tone in his cousin's voice was bad enough.

"Get back to the house, _now_, Bo!"

The blond opened his mouth to try to respond, but his nerve failed him. He'd never seen - or heard - Luke this angry before, and frankly, he didn't understand just what he'd done so wrong. In the end, he decided to just do as Luke said, and hope to clear things up in the morning. He turned and started for the farmhouse, tail tucked between his legs. Then he paused and turned back towards where Luke stood seething.

"I'm sorry, Luke," Bo's miserable voice came through the darkness, and then his footsteps padded off through the trees.

Luke didn't answer. There were tears running down his face, and he knew his voice would crack if he said anything. A moment later, his shaking knees gave out, and he was sitting on the forest floor, crying as quietly as he could manage into his folded arms.

-------------------------------------------------

When Jesse woke in the morning, he made his usual stops at the doors of his niece and nephews. He knocked gently to wake Daisy, and heard her sleepy response, but he quietly opened the door to the boys' bedroom, hoping to wake Bo and let Luke sleep. To his surprise, Jesse found Luke's bed empty and untouched, still neatly made from the day before. Bo, of course, was sound asleep among the tangled pile of his sheets and blankets, and seemed very intent on staying that way when Jesse tried to wake him. In the end, Jesse resorted to removing all his blankets and pillows and let the cold morning air pry his nephew from the bare mattress.

Luke was sitting in the kitchen when Jesse came in, staring hard at the wood grain of the table with a bleak expression. One look and Jesse knew he hadn't slept all night - he hadn't even changed out of his blood-stained clothes. Odds were he hadn't tended to his feet either.

"Luke?" Jesse inquired, pouring himself a mug of coffee. A quick look outside showed him the morning chores had already been done - the chickens were out, feeding and clucking contentedly, the eggs were gathered, the goats were milked, and Maudine was fed.

Luke didn't respond, and he was saved from further inquiry when Daisy breezed into the kitchen, dressed and ready for the day. She hugged her cousin's shoulder and kissed his cheek, then gave her uncle the same greeting, and started on breakfast.

Bo was longer in joining his family, after shaving and showering to get ready for school. He came in with his hair vaguely combed, tucking in a yellow long-sleeved shirt over a blue t-shirt, as Jesse and Luke were working at the eggs and toast Daisy had cooked. Jesse looked up at his youngest nephew's approach and frowned, swallowing a bite of egg.

"What'd you do, there, Bo?" Jesse asked, gesturing to the top of his throat.

Bo touched a hand to the spot and came away with a bit of bright red blood. "Musta cut myself shaving," he commented, and returned to the bathroom to dab at the shallow nick. Only one person at the table noticed the cut was several inches below the line of peach fuzz Bo attempted to shave every few days.

Jesse returned his attention to the breakfast table, only to discover Luke had turned ghost-pale and was trying to keep from shaking.

"Uh…breakfast was great, Daisy, thanks," the Marine said, quickly excusing himself and getting to his feet. Before Jesse could say a word, he was out the door and disappearing around the far side of the barn. He'd hardly touched his plate.

Bo frowned when he returned to the kitchen and found Luke gone, and he only had one conclusion to reach - Luke was still angry with him. A little dejected, he sat down and accepted the breakfast plate Daisy handed him, but he didn't eat with nearly his usual gusto. Jesse and Daisy exchanged looks, wondering what was wrong with the boys this morning.

When Bo finished, Jesse stood and deposited his coffee mug in the sink. "Come on, Bo, I'll drive you to school."

On the far side of the barn, when Luke finished retching what little was in his stomach, he sank down against the barn wall, listening to the sound of Uncle Jesse's pickup rumbling off down the drive. He felt sick and dizzy, but far worse was the horrible knot in his chest. The words kept repeating themselves in his head. _Killer…no kin of ours…killer…musta cut myself shaving…I almost killed him…I would have killed him…I'm sorry, Luke…killer…_

Luke trembled all over, breaths coming in short pants, and a cold sweat dampened his shirt as he sat there and tried to regain control of himself. _What's wrong with me?_ he wondered miserably, shivering harder. _I'll leave…I'll just leave…I'll only hurt someone if I stay…I can stay with Rob, or go back…_

Taking deep, shuddering breaths, Luke felt a bit better, having come up with a plan. It was still some time before he felt steady enough to get back to his feet, and even then, his legs were wobbly and unsure. Leaning one hand against the barn, Luke kicked some dirt over the mess he'd made, then took another deep breath, and stood up straight. If he was going, he was going _now_, before he had to face Bo again.

Daisy had finished with the dishes and was starting to gather the laundry when Luke came inside. He passed by without a word and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Daisy frowned, unsure how worried she should be.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Luke was doing a very bad job of not letting the tears fall while he packed. He couldn't bear the thought of what had nearly happened, and every time he happened to glance at Bo's bed, or Bo's trophies, or Bo's dirty clothes on the floor, the salty droplets flowed anew. He had paused for the third or tenth time to wipe them away when a soft knock sounded at the door.

"Yeah?" Luke asked, a little too hoarsely.

"It's Uncle Jesse, Luke – can I come in?" came the familiar, gruff, old voice from the other side of the door.

When Luke didn't answer, going back to packing, Jesse cautiously opened the door anyhow. He stood there in silent shock for a full minute, staring at the scene that met his eyes. Here was Luke, obviously miserably upset, cramming a small stack of shirts and folded boxers into his green military duffel bag, with more socks and a handful of pictures waiting to go in next. It was Jesse's nightmare come true.

"Luke?" he asked softly.

The Marine's shoulders slumped and he hung his head, letting the folds of the bag fall limp in his hands. For all his conviction, he was ashamed at what amounted to running away.

"Luke," Jesse repeated again, reaching for his nephew's arm, but Luke wouldn't turn around. "Luke, please don't go…"

Luke shook his head, raising a hand to wipe tears away again. "I don't belong here, Uncle Jesse."

"Luke…whatever's wrong, we can fix it, I promise…Lukas, please…" Jesse went on, tears welling in his own eyes. "Tell me what's wrong, we'll make it right…"

Slowly, Luke started picking up pairs of socks and setting them in the top of the bag.

"Luke, no…please…you're exhausted, you haven't slept…please, rest a while first, and think on it…" Jesse pleaded.

The young man stopped, head hanging, but said nothing.

"Please, son…get some rest. You need to sleep. And then…then, if you still want to leave…I won't stand in your way. I love you, Luke…we all do…"

For several long, tense moments, Jesse waited in silence, watching the rise and fall of Luke's shoulder blades with each heavy breath. Luke still made no move, nor gave any indication that he'd listened to anything Jesse said. Then, finally, Luke slowly nodded, and Jesse gave an inaudible sigh of relief.

"Good lad," Jesse whispered, and now Luke turned around as his uncle pulled him into a fierce hug that Luke didn't have the heart to return. Stepping back, the old farmer's heart broke to see the reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He couldn't fathom what had driven Luke to this. "I'm here if you want to talk, son," he said gently.

Luke just nodded again, not trusting his voice to speak. Jesse squeezed his arm, then sighed, and started to step out. At the door, he remembered his original reason for knocking.

"Oh – this came for you in the mail," he said, reaching into the pocket of his overalls and producing a letter. Luke took it with another nod, and when he said nothing more, Jesse quietly stepped out and shut the door, leaving him to the peace and solitude of the empty bedroom.

Feeling every bit of his sleepless night, Luke sat down on the bed, leaning against the headboard and lifting his sore feet off the floor. He looked down at the scrawling handwriting on the envelope, and even though there was no return address, he knew exactly who it was from. He was a little surprised – Rob had promised to write, but he wasn't expecting a letter so soon. Using his knife for a letter opener, as he had to many times before, Luke pulled out the letter and began to read with weary eyes:

_'Dear Luke,_

_I've only just gotten home, and I can't believe how very quiet and lonely it is. I guess it just hasn't sunk in yet – everywhere I look, I keep expecting to see Anne and Tyler walking around a corner, running up to me with hugs and kisses and a thousand stories to tell me. I visited the graves…the dirt is still fresh, Luke! I just can't believe it. After all this time, I finally go home, and they're gone. I thought about going back, but the way they're pulling guys out, I doubt I can. My folks are still in Gary…I don't know, it was all so sudden, I don't know what to do anymore._

_But that's enough of that. How do you like being home again, Luke? I tell you, I stood under that first shower until the hot water ran out – no one waiting in line, no hot water ration, no mortar attacks while I'm buck naked with soap in my eyes – no young privates from Georgia dumping buckets of mud over the top – it was very nice._

That made Luke crack a smile. It was the start of a long friendship, when Private First Class Lukas K. Duke snuck up on a dare and poured a bucket of the foulest-smelling mud he could find into the shower onto Platoon Sergeant Robert T. Fulton on his second day at base camp.

_So, is Bo as tall as he looked in those pictures? Did you get to see one of his games? How about Daisy – I'll bet she cooked you the best fried chicken and biscuits you've ever had. And Uncle Jesse – did you decide if you're gonna tell him about your P.H., or not? I look at these empty rooms, Luke, and I'm glad you're got a family to go home to. You deserve it, buddy – let them take care of you for a little while, instead of you worrying about everyone else._

_Well, if I'm gonna eat dinner tonight, I'd better go get the water boiling. Take care, Luke, and write soon._

_Rob'_

Luke read through it once, then a second time, before replacing the letter in the envelope and setting it on his nightstand. He sat up with a stiff groan, stretching taut muscles, and then began unlacing his boots, to follow his uncle's sage advice.

**Y'know, I like this Rob feller - he's got a real good sense of timing. Let's just hope ol' Luke's got the sense to listen.**


	7. No Promises

**Author's Notes: Hey everyone, long time no see! So, the funny thing is, this story has actually been finished for about a month now - and then I decided I didn't like Chapter 7 & 8, especially 8, so it's been a slow process rewriting them. Kudos to my patient and ever-busy beta readers, and to Jordyn & the writers of the Letters From War series, who unknowingly and indirectly inspired me to actually include poor Daisy a bit more in these rewrites (I just never know what to do with that girl!). Enjoy!**

* * *

**C****hapter 7: No Promises**

"_When I got home, I stayed alone,  
__And checked behind each door…"  
_- 'Still in Saigon' - Charlie Daniels Band

Luke opened his eyes to the mid-afternoon sunlight streaming cheerily and obliviously through the bedroom window. Left to himself, he would have slept for many more hours and been better off for it. Instead, that sickening sensation returned as his ears picked up the sounds of Daisy greeting Bo in the kitchen on his return from school.

"Luke's still sleeping, Uncle Jesse," Daisy reported as her uncle came in behind her cousin.

"Good," was Jesse's approving answer, betraying none of his worry. "He needs it. Bo, you go on and get your chores done, and don't disturb your cousin. When you get back from tending the Kellers' horses, you two can go get that engine," the Duke patriarch instructed.

"Yes sir!" came Bo's buoyant answer as he slung his backpack on the couch and headed back out the door with energetic steps. His mood had brightened considerably over the course of the day, when he remembered that today was the day, and that Luke was going with him.

Luke swung his feet over the edge of the bed and sat up, one hand on his cantankerous stomach. _I nearly killed him_, Luke thought again, tasting bile at the back of his throat. _I nearly killed _**Bo**.

A few slow, deep breaths settled his stomach and made the worst of his frayed nerves more manageable. He hung his head, thinking of Uncle Jesse's pleas for him to stay, and wondering whether he could still walk out like he'd intended to. His eyes strayed to the letter still sitting on his nightstand, and he picked it up and read it one more time.

…_the dirt is still fresh, Luke!…I look at these empty rooms, Luke, and I'm glad you've got a family to go home to…You deserve it, buddy…_

Folding it up again, he set it back on the table, took a breath, and got up to gather his clothes and towel to take a long, hot shower.

* * *

Daisy heard Luke turn on the shower not long after Bo left for the neighbor's farm, and she heard him getting dressed and moving about the boys' bedroom, but some time between bringing the dry laundry in and starting supper, she realized she'd lost track of him. He wasn't in the bedroom, nor the bathroom, nor anywhere in the farmhouse, and he didn't answer when she called his name from the farmyard. Daisy paced the farm, fretting and rechecking all the rooms, very worried after the way he'd acted this morning and the way Uncle Jesse asked her to keep an eye on him. Jesse was out checking his lines of small game snares right now, so she had no one to worry to but herself. 

Daisy had gone back to cooking – as much to keep herself busy as anything else – when Jesse returned, carrying three rabbits and a fox back with him. The rabbits would go into the stew for tomorrow's dinner, and the fox would make a good fur to sell and bring in some milk and bread money. Jesse's alarm was clear when Daisy told him she had no idea where Luke had gone, and he rushed straight back to the boys' bedroom to see for himself. His alarm was doubled when he saw an envelope of cash sitting on the pillow of Bo's bed – exactly half the payment for that racing engine, like Luke had promised.

With two quick, anxious steps, Jesse strode to Luke's set of drawers and yanked one open. All Luke's socks, boxers, and undershirts lay neatly folded and stacked inside. Jesse opened another drawer, and there were all Luke's jeans. He turned to the closet and flung open the doors, and there were all Luke's button-down shirts, hanging right beside Bo's. And there, crumpled at the bottom of the closet, lay Luke's green duffel bag, empty and discarded.

Finally, Jesse allowed himself a deep sigh of relief. Luke hadn't left – yet – so wherever he was and whatever he was doing, he was still on the farm.

Right about then, Bo came running up the driveway and burst through the front door, not out of worry, but excitement. He gave Daisy the briefest of greetings and grinned when he saw the light entering the hallway through the open bedroom door. Bo strode down the hall with long, lanky strides, panting a little from his run, but his grin fell when he saw only Jesse in the room.

"Where's Luke?" he asked, stepping in to look around in case Luke might be, say, hiding under the bed.

"Well, I'm not sure exactly, but he's around here somewhere," Jesse answered. "He left the money out for the engine for you." He pointed, and Bo saw the envelope on his bed, and frowned.

"But…he was gonna go with me…" Bo protested half-heartedly. Did that mean Luke was _still_ mad?

"I know." Jesse wrapped a comforting arm around his young nephew's shoulders. "I don't think Luke was feeling very good today. I'm sure he wants to go, an' he just doesn't want to have to tell you he's not up to it." It wasn't exactly what Jesse thought was going on, but at least Bo would understand and feel a little better about it.

"Oh…" was Bo's thoughtful response. "Well, I guess…I can give Cooter a call…an' we'll have all winter to work on it…"

Jesse patted his back. "That's my boy. Now, you'd best get a move on. Luke promised the owner you'd pick it up by seven, if'n I remember right."

Bo's smile returned – though it wasn't quite as bright as before – and he picked up the envelope, adding it to the shoebox of money stashed underneath his bed.

"Yes sir!"

"Bo! Are you sure you don't want to wait for dinner, hon?" Daisy called from the kitchen.

"No thanks, Daisy! Just save some for me, will ya?"

And he was off. Jesse smiled. Bo putting something else before his stomach was a rare thing, but this had been a long time coming, and it would sure be great to see these two boys working side by side on a car again.

* * *

"Luke!" 

He ignored the first call, staying perfectly still and silent, hoping Jesse would just go away and leave him alone. How on earth did his uncle always know he was up here, anyway?

"Luke, come on down here, now. You need to eat something, an' I'm gettin' too old to be climbing up there after you."

With an inward sigh, Luke obeyed. No matter how old he was or what he had done in his life, he loved and respected his uncle too much to refuse such a simple command. Looking down from the hayloft before he climbed onto the ladder, Luke was surprised to see Jesse standing there with a full plate of meatloaf and green bean casserole, silverware and all. When he reached the bottom, Jesse just gestured to a nearby bale of hay, and handed him the meal when he sat down.

Jesse was quiet, settling onto a second bale of hay himself, and surveying his eldest nephew while he ate. Obviously some sleep, a shower, and a clean set of clothes had been an improvement, but there was something about Luke that just looked…broken. Beaten. Resigned.

He ate slowly, chewed slowly, which Jesse certainly hadn't seen in the last three days. His eyes looked absently to the dirt floor, avoiding the old farmer's searching blue gaze, and when he looked up, dark circles ringed deadened, lackluster eyes. It saddened Jesse to see him like this, like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but at the same time he was afraid to push the boy away by asking questions and digging into his open wounds.

"I'll stay, Uncle Jesse," Luke said quietly between bites. Jesse was startled by the sudden declaration, but the words gladdened him just the same. "I can't make any promises…but I'll stay."

Jesse smiled and reached out to pat his nephew's knee, noticing how Luke flinched ever so slightly at his touch. "Good, Luke. I'm glad."

His words vastly understated his joy and relief, but the way Luke looked like a cornered rabbit just now, Jesse thought a bear hug and a merry dance around the barn might be a bit too much.

A few minutes later, Luke was finished – if he'd eaten slowly, at least he'd eaten everything, and Jesse was glad of that too. The older man stood, slapping his hands briskly to his thighs.

"Well! You come on inside and wash your dishes, an' I'll bet by now Daisy's got some cookies fresh out of the oven."

Luke frowned, thinking that wasn't part of the 'come-down-from-the-hayloft-and-eat' bargain, but knowing he couldn't very well refuse to wash his own dirty dishes. He wondered if that was Jesse's plan all along, and he had a feeling he'd been snookered.

Nevertheless, Luke got to his feet and followed Jesse into the farmhouse. Daisy greeted them both sweetly, but Luke had no smile to summon for his lady cousin now. He went straight to the sink and to business. Jesse and Daisy exchanged glances, then Jesse quickly went to the 'fridge and cupboards so that when Luke finished washing a minute later, a plate of warm cookies and a tall glass of milk waited at the table for him. Trapped, Luke looked from his uncle to his cousin to the open front door, and he sighed, taking the plate and glass.

"I'll be out on the front porch," he said quietly.

Jesse was satisfied enough with the compromise – as long as he wasn't off hiding by himself in the hayloft. "And I think I'll join you," Jesse said, followed his nephew out the front door.

Luke settled himself along the length of the porch swing, stretching his legs and groaning as he took the weight off his aching feet. Then he set the plate and glass in his lap and began making slow progress on dessert. Jesse sat in the wooden rocking chair by his feet, watching the fading sunset but also his nephew out of the corner of his eye.

The Marine watched the falling rays of a glorious October sunset with vacant eyes, not for a moment contemplating the absolute joy of sitting on the front porch of his childhood home, full of good food, with his family around him. No, Luke's thoughts were turned inward, his keen mind searching through his heart and conflicting emotions the same way he'd analyze a chaotic battlefield to understand the best strategy to employ. He was a danger to his family – he knew that all too well – and he knew the best way to protect them was to stay as far away as possible. Yet he had just told Uncle Jesse he would stay on the farm, and truth be told, there wasn't any place in the world he'd rather be. He didn't want to run – but the alarm bells rang loud and shrill in his head as he thought of how Bo would want him to help work on that engine, how Jesse would want him to eat with the family at the dinner table, how Daisy would ask for his help with chores – how he'd never be able to keep a safe distance between they and him.

Jesse could see his nephew was deep in thought, with little worry-wrinkles furrowing his brow and a thoughtful frown on his lips. Luke didn't even notice when Daisy came outside onto the porch, but his uncle watched him suddenly leap to his feet when the screen door shut with a _bang!_.

"Just me, Luke," Daisy explained apologetically, glancing at the offending door. She reached for the plate and glass he held in his hands, and he handed them over woodenly, stiff with tension. His lady cousin gave him a small smile, which Luke tried to return, but it came out more like a grimace. She patted his arm and went back inside, careful to shut the door gently this time.

Exhaling a deep breath, Luke turned to look at his uncle, who was looking back with concern in his eyes. "Well, I'm, ah…" he started to say, but he couldn't find the words to finish. Instead, Luke just sighed and went inside, hanging his head. Jesse tracked the sound of his footsteps into the boys' bedroom, then back out through the back porch door, and a minute later Luke was walking across the chicken yard towards the barn, with some indistinct object in his hand.

A half-hour later, Jesse was still sitting on the porch – doing a little thinking of his own – when the bass rumble of a truck engine accompanied headlights flashing up the driveway, and Jesse's own white pickup came rolling up the dirt drive. The two occupants – one Bo Duke and one Cooter Davenport – were both grinning from ear to ear, almost entirely because of the cargo secured in the truck bed. Bo waved to Jesse through the windshield, while Cooter climbed out to open the barn doors and guide Bo as he backed the truck in. Smiling himself, Jesse got up and strolled over as Bo parked the truck and got out to help Cooter manhandle the engine to the barn floor.

"How'd you boys make out?" Jesse asked, watching them grunt and strain as they moved the engine block onto the sawhorses Bo had set up and ready.

"Oh…uhn…great, Uncle Jesse," Bo answered. "Mr. Dean, he was…ouch, ouch, watch it!" Cooter had started to set the engine down before Bo's fingers were out of the way. Finally they got it seated right, and Bo turned to his uncle with an excited smile. "Mr. Dean was on the circuit a few years back, I guess, backup driver for his team – he used this ol' beauty to test against the team car on the practice track, until he retired."

"Well, good!" Jesse exclaimed, coming over to have a look. He'd done enough mechanic work to appreciate the possibilities in the machine before him, and also to see all the work it needed still.

"Mr. Dean said he had trouble selling it, because most everyone who came to have a look at it wanted an engine that was track-ready," Bo told his uncle, standing at his elbow. "He said it was just perfect for a couple o' boys like us, and he was glad he hadn't sold it yet."

Jesse smiled at the pride and excitement in his nephew's voice. He exchanged a knowing look with Cooter as Bo disappeared beneath the hayloft to retrieve a pair of toolboxes, depositing both beside the burdened sawhorses. Crouching down among the scattered hay and dirt, Bo looked up at the engine for a moment with a mechanic's eye, trying to decide where to start, and then began selecting his favorite tools.

"Alright, then. You boys have fun. Bo, don't you stay up too late – you've got school in the morning. Cooter, I'll give you a ride home when you're ready," Jesse said.

"Much obliged, Uncle Jesse," Cooter thanked him, eyeing the battered engine himself. In another moment, he was bent down beside Bo, and neither noticed as Jesse slipped out the barn and back to the house, smiling all the way.

A few minutes later, after some searching and another trip to the barn wall beneath the hayloft, Bo finally had his good tools ready, and he looked up. "Hey Uncle Jesse, where's…Luke," he finished, realizing his uncle was long gone. Bo frowned, finding it a little odd that his elder cousin hadn't come to meet them when they drove up. Maybe he had gone to bed early, if he wasn't feeling well like Uncle Jesse said – or maybe he was still mad at his little cousin. Either way, Bo turned back to the engine, his heart a little heavier with his cousin's absence.

The blond Duke had lost track of how long they'd been working at disassembling the machine, when an odd sound made him stop and stand up straight.

"What's that?" he asked Cooter, but the sound stopped just as the elder mechanic looked up.

"What's what?"

Bo frowned. "I dunno, it sounded kinda like a mouse scratching around in the loft."

"A mouse?" Cooter asked dubiously. Why was Bo bothering about a mouse?

Bo waited a bit longer, to see if he heard it again, but when silence met his ears, he turned back to the engine again. It was only a few minutes before he stopped a second time.

"There! There it is again," he said, looking up towards the loft. The sound stopped immediately. Curious now, Bo set down the wrench and wiped off his hands, striding towards the hayloft ladder. Cautiously, he climbed up and peeked over the edge, hanging onto the top of the ladder with both hands. What he saw was no mouse.

"Luke!"

The Marine looked up from his seat among the hay against the barn wall, meeting Bo's eyes for only a moment before he quickly looked away. He sat with a pen in hand, holding notepaper to the back of a notebook on his knee, the same way he'd written so many letters over the last three years. The scratching sound was his pen on the paper.

"Hey Bo," he acknowledged in a dull monotone.

"What are you doin' up here, Luke? Are ya feelin' better? We've got the engine down here, you wanna work on it with me an' Cooter…?" the blond asked enthusiastically. His enthusiasm failed when Luke shook his head.

"I'm busy, Bo," he answered quietly, summoning a deadpan expression as Bo's excited expression quickly changed to hurt.

"But…"

"I'm _busy_, Bo," Luke repeated. It sounded cold, it sounded harsh, and it killed him inside, but it was far worse looking up and seeing the angry red cut on his cousin's throat where a Marine's lethal K-bar had barely missed vital blood vessels.

Now Bo's expression changed from hurt to crushed. "Okay, Luke," he said in a small voice, then disappeared from view, slowly climbing down the ladder. A minute later, Luke heard his voice from the barn down below.

"Cooter, I…I think I'm done for the night. Come on, I'll give you a ride home." The sadness in his voice was unmistakable. There was a long, surprised pause before Cooter spoke, accompanied by the clank of a wrench getting set down.

"Alright, buddyro'. Whenever you're ready."

**Hardly the auspicious welcome you'd expect for that engine's first arrival on the Duke farm, huh?**

Luke leaned back against the wall, shutting his eyes tight and taking a deep breath as his cousin and best friend tore out of the drive. Then silence settled on the farm once more. Lord, what was wrong with him? He couldn't even hang out with his friends anymore! Luke looked down at the half-written letter beneath his hands.

_Dear Rob,_

_It was good to hear from you – you have no idea how good. I'm home, I guess, but it doesn't really feel like home anymore. It was great the first couple of days, great to see everyone, great to be here, but now…I don't know what the hell is wrong with me, Rob. I feel like I should be back with the platoon on a recon or something, but instead I'm sitting on the porch, or gathering eggs. I keep waiting for something to happen. Then something does happen, and I just…react…except it's nothing but the door slamming shut, or a branch cracking in the wind, or a squirrel in the bushes, and I feel stupid, but I can't help it. Know what I mean?_

The last line came as a plea for understanding, in hope that he wasn't the only one feeling like this – like he was half-crazy, torn in all different directions and wishing he was fully crazy so he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. That was as far as he'd gotten, and he wasn't sure what else he should write. Should he tell Rob about last night's incident with Bo? If there was anyone who would understand, it was his friend, but at the same time, Luke was so ashamed and afraid…he didn't know if he could tell even Rob.

Swallowing hard, Luke shifted his position to pick up the light from the front porch through the loft window, and put pen to paper.

_The worst was last night…_

**Y'know, something tells me Luke just might be wrong there…**

* * *


	8. Slipping Away

**Author's Notes: Bwahaha! This whole thing is finally almost nearly totally completed (some minor beta-ing pending) - so here's a chapter, and you can expect another in a couple of days, and then a couple of days after that. And in a completely personal and very political note, military- and current-events-minded readers might look up the 'Secret' Letter From Iraq on CNN or Time - puts an interesing perspective on current and past events, and men (and women) like our Duke boy here. :-D Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Slipping Away**

"_Sound the bugle now – Tell them I don't care.  
There's not a road I know that leads to anywhere.  
__Without a light I fear that I will stumble in the dark..."  
_- 'Sound the Bugle' - sung by Bryan Adams

* * *

When Bo woke the next morning, the first thing he checked was the bed to his left, hoping Luke had come in during the night. He hadn't. The empty blankets were neatly made and smoothed as Daisy had left them the day before, and there was no sign of Luke anywhere.

With a heavy heart, Bo dressed and gathered his things for school. He knew Luke was still angry with him, though he still couldn't figure out his crime. The Marine made that clear enough last night in the barn. His cold tone, his utter rejection – it cut Bo to the core. He loved his cousin, idolized him, missed him terribly when he was gone, and now Luke wasn't home a week and he was furious with his little cousin already. It was like Bo could feel their brotherhood slipping away – and somehow it was his fault.

His worries seemed confirmed when he entered the kitchen, and found only Jesse and Daisy sitting there eating breakfast. Bo took his place at the table and accepted a plate from Daisy, taking a long, unhappy look at the empty seat beside him. He looked up at his uncle and cousin, who hadn't missed his miserable expression.

"Luke was up early this morning," Jesse explained. "He went to go check the fence line and see what needs fixing." His tone was even, but his eyes told their own story of worry and concern.

Bo nodded and turned his attention to his breakfast, but he found he had little appetite this morning. Mostly he just pushed the eggs around his plate with his fork, thinking back over every minute of Sunday night, until Jesse quietly spoke his name and gave him that look.

"Yes sir," Bo answered sullenly, and started eating properly. It also occurred to him that the fence work Luke was out doing was work Bo was supposed to do weeks ago, but he'd been too busy with paid jobs to earn money for the engine. That thought just brought him right back to last night, and left him more miserable, just in time to go to school.

* * *

It was several hours later before Luke made an appearance at the farmhouse, walking in silently from the fields and pouring himself a glass of water. Daisy was giving the bathroom its weekly scrub when she heard him come in, and she left off her task to join him in the kitchen.

"Morning, Luke!" she greeted warmly as he finished gulping down the glass. He didn't answer, just refilled the glass and started drinking it down too. Undeterred, Daisy went on, "We missed you at breakfast, hon – you want something to eat? I can fix something…real…quick…" she trailed off as Luke ignored her entirely, setting the glass down in the sink and walking out the door again.

A little hurt, she walked to the screen door and watched him speak to Uncle Jesse in the yard for a moment, asking for the keys to the pickup to drive fence materials and tools into the fields. Jesse readily gave him the keys, but after Luke walked away, the old farmer looked up to meet Daisy's eyes in mutual frustrated worry.

They didn't see Luke again until mid-afternoon, when he brought the truck back in time for Jesse to pick Bo up from football practice. He returned the keys to his uncle and made a brief stop inside the farmhouse before setting out across the fields again without a word. Jesse watched his retreating back with a frown, at the same time eyeing the clouds gathering in the west. There were two storms coming, he thought, but only one of them involved rain.

* * *

Luke took no notice of the darkening sky or the gusting wind as he bent over the fence post, giving a grunt of pain as the barbed wire he was fastening in place cut into his hand. The leather gloves he had on were practically worthless, thin and worn through in many places, and his hands were now dotted with a number of small nicks and scratches from his day's work. When the wire was fastened tight, he snipped the loose end off and surveyed his handiwork.

The rather mean-looking barbed wire fence wasn't so much to keep _people_ out, but animals – cattle, deer, and horses that might devastate the corn in the fields. Here, about fifty feet of fence ran close to the tree line, and any number of branches had fallen across the wires in a summer storm, bending posts and generally mangling the fence. He'd also spent time repairing broken posts and beams of the split-rail fence that divided the fields of the Duke farm, and marked where livestock had once grazed in pastures. The work needed to be done, but it also served a greater purpose – keeping his mind off his troubles.

Since Sunday, his night walks had lost their feel of comfortable habit – nothing felt comfortable anymore, not the trained patterns of the Marines, not the quiet life of the farm. When he slipped into the former, Luke found himself constantly on edge for fear of hurting someone accidentally, but when he attempted the latter, some sight, sound, or smell would inevitably trigger some reflex or memory and send him some place very far from Hazzard, Georgia. He was at his wit's end, trying to find a solution.

The world didn't seemed to be inclined to give him a break, either, because just as he straightened up to examine the fenceline, a big fat drop of rain landed _SPLAT!_ on the end of his nose. Luke blinked and shook it off, but _SPLAT!_ a second drop quickly replaced it. Tension coursed through him like a splash of ice water as the rain washed him back to monsoon season on the jungle battlefield.

_SPLAT!_ and the peaceful Hazzard forest before him transformed into the murky, menacing jungle that surrounded his base camp. _SPLAT!_ and the muddy fields behind him became the parade ground below watch towers armed with machine guns, the boundary marked by the vicious barbed-wire fence. _SPLAT!_ and his ears picked up the telltale sounds of a skirmish line advancing through the shadows of the trees, and _SPLAT!_ his eyes picked out the outlines of twenty – fifty – a hundred VC emerging from the jungle, and _SPLAT!_ Luke reached for his rifle, but there was no rifle to reach for, and _SPLAT!_ in horror, he realized the attack was coming from all sides, and he'd left the camp undefended! Drawing the only weapon available to him, Luke took off across the fields through the downpour, praying to God as he ran, and the shouts and sounds of battle chased him down.

* * *

The Duke farmhouse was quiet and cozy, a haven from the cold downpour outside. Bo was sitting at the table reading his history homework with a furrowed brow; Daisy was at the kitchen counter working on dinner; Uncle Jesse was stoking a fire in the fireplace, with the animals already penned and fed for the evening. Needless to say, all were rather alarmed when Luke came running up the porch steps with pounding feet and flung the door open, looking inside with wild eyes as his chest heaved and gasped for breath. In that instant, staring at his family staring back at him, the echoes and shadows of days past vanished, and there was nothing but the sound of Georgia rain drumming on the tin roof.

Fear melting into confusion, Luke backpedaled a few steps, letting the door shut, and he jumped again when he bumped into the porch rail. Breathing hard, he leaned into the rail, grabbing hold of the tall porch beam for support. It wasn't a moment before the door opened again, and his family came out to find him.

"Luke?" Jesse asked cautiously, waving Bo and Daisy back a bit as he looked his nephew over. The young man had been running hard, and he couldn't seem to catch his breath, now coughing and turning red with the effort as he leaned on his knees. Rain and sweat dripped down from his crew-cut hair all the way to his mud-splattered clothes. Slight shivers ran through him as he cooled off in his wet clothes.

"Come on, inside." Jesse grasped one arm, offering support. Luke needed little urging, and soon Jesse was guiding him in to sit before the fire. The Duke patriarch looked up to the niece and nephew that trailed behind them.

"Bo – dry clothes. Daisy – a blanket, and some water. Easy…easy…" he turned his attention back to his eldest nephew, steadying him with firm hands between gulping breaths and dry coughs.

It was some minutes before Luke was warm and dry and nearly breathing normally again, sipping water to ease his dry throat. A heavy quilt was bundled around his shoulders, and he was now dressed in socks, sweatpants, and the first shirt Bo had grabbed from the closet. He leaned forward on his knees, eyes closed and breathing slowly and deeply. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the knife blade still clutched in one hand, far too close to his uncle. Luke moved to sheath it, only to discover his boots were missing. Looking around, he spotted them a few feet away, and he heaved himself to his feet to collect them. Returning to the couch, he sat and started loosening the laces on the wet leather – all without looking once at his family.

"Luke? Is everything alright?" he heard Jesse ask softly.

The eldest Duke cousin paused as he slipped on one boot, shivering again. "I was… just…making sure you're all okay," he mumbled self-consciously, before quickly lacing up that boot and pulling on the second. His cousins could barely hear him.

Jesse's brow furrowed. "Why wouldn't we be okay?" he asked gently.

Luke looked up to the window and the pouring rain beyond. He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, and his eyes dropped to the floor as his hands finished lacing the second boot. When he looked up again, he saw nothing but loving concern in his uncle's eyes. Luke looked to Daisy, then to Bo, resting his eyes unhappily on his youngest cousin for a long moment before turning away.

"Nevermind," he muttered, pushing himself to his feet and letting the blanket fall from his shoulders. His uncle and cousins watched in disbelief as he walked out the front door, back into the rain.

Before Jesse turned in for the night, he stopped to look out the front porch door at the barn. The faint glow of a lantern lit the hayloft window, and he knew Luke was up there – probably cold, probably lonely, and probably miserable, yet he refused to answer Jesse's calls from the barn floor earlier, and he refused to come inside and sleep in his own bed. The old farmer's heart broke for the boy. Jesse understood his aloof behavior as a substitute for leaving the farm entirely, and it was very clear that he wanted to stay away from the family, but the Duke patriarch still couldn't understand the reason for it. Heaving a sigh, Jesse shut the door and padded down the hall towards his bedroom, but he left the kitchen light on, to welcome a young soldier inside.

* * *

Bo was disappointed, but no longer surprised, to find his cousin missing from the breakfast table again the next morning. He hadn't missed the long, reproachful look Luke had given him the night before, and he was growing determined to corner his cousin and talk things through, like Uncle Jesse always taught them. But, that was just the problem – Luke was angry and avoiding him, so it was difficult to try and talk to him about it. By meal's end, Bo left with his uncle for school with leaden spirits, dragging his feet with uncharacteristic sullenness.

Throughout the meal, Daisy watched the empty place setting sadly. As the woman of the household, she figured it was her duty to ensure that her menfolk ate a good and proper diet, especially her undernourished elder cousin, but he hadn't hardly eaten a bite since Monday night. She decided to try something different, then. After Jesse and Bo left, Daisy put together a heaping plate full of the morning's leftovers, and left it sitting on the rail of the front porch with knife and fork. Though she never heard a whisper of movement, the plate was gone by the time she finished washing the breakfast dishes, and she smiled.

Two hours later, Jesse returned with groceries from town, and Daisy left off planting in the garden to help him carry the load inside. The Duke patriarch stepped inside first, and a smile lightened his worried features at the sight that greeted him.

"Shhh," he cautioned Daisy with a nod in the direction of the living room. A clean plate and silverware dripped dry on the drain board, and, showered and dressed in clean clothes, Luke was stretched out on the couch, dead asleep.

Daisy smiled too, as she set down her burdens, and followed her uncle with light steps into the family room. Luke breathed in soft, deep breaths, one arm lying across his chest and the other dangling to the carpeted floor. He didn't stir at his uncle and cousin's approach, but he was obviously deep in some kind of dream – the small twitches and jerks of random muscles gave him away, and his lips moved slightly in muted, unspoken words.

Daisy looked at him wistfully for a moment, before raising her eyes to her uncle. "What do you figure he's dreamin' about, Uncle Jesse?" she asked with a frown.

"Look at his hands, Daisy," Jesse instructed gently.

The callused fingers of Luke's hands moved in muted twitches as well, but none so much as the regular jerks of his trigger finger.

"Uncle Jesse…" Daisy said softly, sadly, as she understood.

"Shhh, let him sleep. He probably didn't sleep a wink in the rain last night. Dreams pass – even this kind." Even as he spoke, though, Jesse stepped forward to take the quilt off the back of the couch and gently spread it across his eldest nephew, shushing him quietly. Luke settled under his uncle's soothings, breathing a deep sigh, and Jesse smiled again before he turned back to his niece. "Come on, now – there's things to be done."

* * *

_Trees limbs grass bushes wet rain mud drip slog puddle paddy rice rain run shoot **bang** duck cover helmet pack rifle reload cartridge enemy fire shoot cover **bang** rattle nine fire forward attack trees field charge forward fire **bang** left right eight sweat heat wet sun bright shoot** bang** cover down dodge check dead seven Lord-help-us **bang** outnumbered ambush flanked run RUN shoot** bang** six shoot** bang** five Lord too close rifle shoulder **bang** boot knife throat dead eyes run stab three mud slip RUN slash trees RUN **bang** two RUN** bang** Lord **bang** RUN **bang** one RUN - **BANG!**._

Luke woke with a gasp even as he felt the bullet burning into him in his nightmare, twisting around in sheer uncoordinated reflex and falling to the floor with a heavy thump. There he paused, looking around wildly, surprised to find himself in the furnished family room. Then, beneath the coffee table, he saw Daisy's slim legs emerge from the kitchen, and he did his best to shake off the nightmare.

"Luke? Everything okay, sweetheart?" she asked as she came into the living room.

"Sorry," Luke started to mumble an apology, picking himself up off the floor. He sat down hard on the couch as he started coughing again – his lungs were still protesting his jaunt the day before. Daisy brought him a glass of water, which he took gratefully, and sipped slowly until the fit had passed. He looked up to find his younger cousin sitting beside him, rubbing his back gently and leaning on his shoulder.

"Better?" she asked softly. She leaned in to hug his shoulders and kiss his rough-shaven cheek affectionately, but she was surprised when he neither returned nor even acknowledged the gesture. He only nodded slightly, looking down at the floor.

"I just closed my eyes for a minute…" Luke started to say in a gravelly voice, but he glanced up at her and fell silent with a sigh. After a moment, he spoke again. "I better get back to work…" he muttered, pushing himself to his feet and leaving his cousin's loving embrace. She watched him leave with sad eyes, shaking her head as the porch door shut behind him.

Daisy couldn't understand her elder cousin at all. She knew things had been rough on him overseas, and her imagination probably couldn't dream up what had really happened to him over those thirty months. But she couldn't see how that translated into Luke ignoring and avoiding his family, who loved him to the ends of the earth and wanted nothing more than to be there for him. The cousin sulking around the shadows of the barn wasn't the big brother who'd answered her letters with sage advice and hopeful encouragement. He wasn't a shoulder to lean on or a source of laughter and fun. He was a ghost, plain and simple - a pale, hollow ghost haunting the fields and buildings of the Duke farm, with a ghost's indifference to the living around him. Then, for just a moment as they passed by one another, she'd catch sight of his eyes, and she knew he wasn't indifferent at all – though 'haunted' was a very appropriate term.

The Marine made himself scarce for the remainder of the day, busying himself with farm chores and self-appointed tasks that generally kept him well away from the farmhouse. Daisy continued to leave food out for him every few hours, and it continued to disappear. She thought, sadly, that it was a bit like feeding a stray dog – one that was too wary to approach an offered meal until the would-be rescuers were gone from sight.

When Bo came home from school that afternoon, it took only a cursory glance around to determine that Luke was nowhere to be found. He greeted Daisy at the garden with a short, glum 'Hey' before depositing his backpack inside and leaving for the farm and horses waiting to be groomed up the road. Pausing in her work – planting flower bulbs to winter and be ready for spring – Daisy watched his yellow shirt retreat in the distance. His obvious sadness tugged at her heartstrings, but, she decided, she wasn't going to sit by and watch any longer. Luke might not want to talk to her, but Bo – well, Bo she could do something about.

Later that evening, after dinner and the evening chores, Daisy found Bo sitting on the front porch steps, theoretically watching the stars come out. His thoughts were so far away, though, that he was startled when Daisy settled on the porch step beside him, looking out at the stars herself.

"You're awful quiet tonight," she commented casually.

"Just thinking."

Daisy turned to him. "About Luke?"

Bo picked at a loose splinter on the step below him. "Yeah," he admitted. He was quiet for a moment, frowning deeper. "I just can't figure out why he's mad at me."

"Luke's mad at you?" Daisy asked, surprised. "What happened?"

"Well – we were fine, until Sunday night…he went out into the woods, and I followed him. Luke got _real_ mad…and then Monday he started avoiding me – he ain't been to breakfast, or dinner, he won't sleep in our bedroom…he wasn't there to go get the engine, and when me an' Cooter brought it back, he didn't want to help work on it either - told me he was _busy_…" The words came tumbling out, and Bo looked up with sorrowful blue eyes. "Daisy, he ain't _never_ been too busy to hang out with me before…"

"Oh Bo," Daisy said sadly, reaching up to touch his cheek. "Luke's been acting strange around all of us lately, not just you. I don't know what's going on, but I don't think Luke's mad at you. He loves you, you know that."

"I don't know, Daisy…you didn't see him that night. He's never yelled at me like that before, not even with some of the stupid stuff I've done…"

"Bo, remember what Uncle Jesse told us on the way to Atlanta on Friday?"

"Well, yeah, he said…he said it would be real different for Luke, being home again after all that fighting, and we might need to give him some time an' some space to get used to things…"

Daisy smiled. "Exactly. Things will work out, you'll see…Luke just needs some time and space, that's all."

Bo attempted to give her a smile, but clearly he wasn't convinced. He sighed and looked out at the night sky again, while Daisy got to her feet.

"Come on now, hon – I've got a guitar over here that's been hoping for some attention tonight."

Bo just shook his head, though. "Not tonight, Daisy," he refused.

"Please?"

"No, Daisy - I'm…I'm tired, and my hands are sore from working on Mr. Keller's horses." In truth, he'd had so much fun playing alongside Luke again on Sunday night, it hurt too much to think of playing alone now.

Daisy frowned as Bo turned his back to her, hugging his knees and looking out into the darkness. Then she smiled, and sat down on the porch swing, settling the guitar into her lap.

"_Whenever I chance to meet…some old friends on the street…_" she sang softly, picking at the chords. She smiled again when she saw him shift restlessly where he sat, willing himself to stick with his grumpy resolution. He had spent part of the summer learning the chords and lyrics to the new song on the radio, partly because Daisy loved it, and partly because he thought it would be great to sing to Sarah-Mae on a summer's evening. Sarah-Mae left him for Alec Miller before he'd gotten it all right, but he finished learning it anyhow, for Daisy's sake.

"_They wonder how does a man get to feel this way…_" she went on, purposely striking a few chords exactly wrong.

Finally, Bo had enough. "Oh, gimme that thing," he said with a scowl, climbing to his feet. He sat down beside her and took the instrument, looping the strap over his shoulders. "Here, it's a G there, remember?" He brushed his fingers across the strings and adjusted one or two of them, then played the proper chords for the next line.

Daisy smiled, eyes twinkling, as she sang. "_I've always got a smilin' face…any time and any place…_"

Then he joined her in soft harmony. "_And every time they ask me why, I just smile and say…"_

"_You've got to…kiss an angel good morning…_"

Daisy leaned over and kissed her cousin on the cheek, making him smile as he played.

"_Let her know you think about her when you're gone…kiss an angel good morning, and love her like the devil when you get back home…_"

"_Well, people may try to guess…the secret of my happiness…but some of them never learn it's a simple thing…_"

"_The secret that I'm speaking of…is a woman and a man in love…and the answer is in this song that I always sing…"_

This time around, Bo kissed his lady cousin's brow and pulled her into a quick hug between lines of the chorus, and he laughed when she tickled his ribs playfully at the words '_the devil'_ in the last line. It turned into a full-out tickle fight there on the porch, ending only when the guitar thumped noisily on the porch floor. Laughing as he surrendered, Bo picked up the guitar again and looped the strap back around his shoulders.

"Alright, what next?" he asked, settling his fingers onto the strings and looking up at Daisy with a smile.

The pair spent the next hour singing and playing, trading off singing verses of their favorite songs, laughing when one or the other messed up or couldn't quite remember a line. Jesse smiled from the kitchen, watching them through the screen door.

Another pair of blue eyes watched from elsewhere on the farm, through the open window in the dark recesses of the hayloft. Luke longed to join the happy scene, to sing and play and laugh with his cousins again, but he kept telling himself he didn't belong there. As he watched, Jesse came out to join the cousins in the warm porch light, and he strained to hear Bo singing one of his favorite Hank Williams songs. Would it be so bad, if he went down there? Maybe if he was real careful… if he was on his guard…just for a few minutes…

Luke was half a second away from climbing to his feet when Bo finished the song, and Jesse's gruff voice echoed across the farmyard.

"Alllright, you two – it's time for bed. You've got school tomorrow, Bo," Jesse reminded him, as though he'd managed to forget after eleven and a half years of the daily academic torment.

Still smiling, Bo stood and followed his uncle into the house, one arm around Daisy and holding the guitar in his other hand. Luke watched the door shut behind them, though all the lights stayed on, and in ten minutes' time, the farmhouse was quiet and still. Edging his way back to the pile of loose hay and musty horse blankets that had been his bed for several nights now, Luke felt a pang in his gut, thinking he was a fool for ever hoping things could be the same. Nothing was the same, not even the things that hadn't changed – and he certainly had.

* * *

Thursday morning presented Jesse with a perfect opportunity to force things in the right direction. He had been so reluctant, the last two days, to press Luke for answers for fear of pushing him into running a second time, that he had been hard-pressed to think of any way to bring the family together again at all. It was hard to corner a shadow that kept running from the light. This, though – this could certainly be a good start.

"Luke!" he called from the floor of the barn. He knew his nephew had been sleeping in the hayloft instead of his own bed, and since the morning chores hadn't been done yet, he assumed Luke was still up there.

"Luke!" Jesse called again, a little more urgently, because this was something of an urgent situation. One of the younger billy goats had somehow put a nail through his hoof, and the poor thing bleated in pain in Jesse's arms, adding its own plea to the call.

"Mmhm…yeah, Uncle Jesse?" came Luke's sleepy response at last.

Jesse felt bad for waking him, but only briefly. "I need you to drive Bo to school today."

Hay rustled and denim scraped on wood floorboards, and Luke looked down at his uncle. He immediately saw the goat and its pain, and he knew he could come up with no good reason to refuse. He sighed.

"Alright. What time does he have to be there?" Luke asked, though as soon as he spoke the words, he realized he knew the answer. School hadn't changed that much since he graduated.

"Seven-thirty. It's just after six now."

Luke nodded and climbed down. Just enough time to shower and change.

Daisy was as shocked and surprised as Bo when, an hour later, Luke got up from his cup of coffee at the breakfast table and picked up the truck keys.

"Come on, Bo. I'm driving you today," he announced, and he was out the door.

Bo exchanged a grin with Daisy, hoping it meant Luke finally wanted to talk, then snatched up his backpack and was out the door on his cousin's heels.

**Well now, I just know that once those two get together, they'll be able to sort things out! Nothing can keep the Duke boys apart for long - right?**

* * *


	9. What Did I Do?

**Author's Notes: Now, don't nobody have a heart attack, but here's the next chapter. :-D And I realized, just after I posted chapter 8, that I am an Uber-Goober, and I forgot to thank three people without whom I could not have actually gotten that danged chapter written - Mouse, for her brilliant ideas on songs for that scene towards the end; Flynne, for her triumph over her internet connection and her grand ability to edit my stories; and Fanficfan, for her impressive ability to juggle schoolwork and funwork, and for her incredible attention to detail. And on second thought, I'd also like to thank all those who reviewed last time - now, I read some great comments, but for once I don't think anybody managed to guess what's gonna happen next - not even T.S. Blue, whom I was starting to believe is either psychic or a stalker (preferably the former). :) Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 9: What Did I Do?**

"_What did I do, tell me, what did I say  
__That kicked up the dirt and brought out this side of you, baby…  
__The longer it goes, yeah the shorter your fuse  
__Maybe you'd know if you walked in my shoes  
__Damned if I don't and I'm damned if I do…  
__Tough as a dry creek  
__Sharp as a hawk's beak…  
__Hard as an oak tree…  
__Sure as a heart beat  
__Babe, you got a mean streak…"  
_- 'Mean Streak' by Little Big Town

* * *

Contrary to Bo's hopes, the drive to school was mostly silent. At first, Bo waited expectantly for Luke to speak up, but his cousin seemed as intent on ignoring him in the truck as on the farm. Eventually Bo settled into a dejected slump, staring out the window. 

About halfway to town, Luke glanced across at his cousin. Even he noticed the painfully heavy silence in the truck cab, and he figured, maybe it would be harmless to say something.

"So, uhm, how's school going?" Luke asked quietly, clearing his throat.

Bo looked up hopefully. "Good! Well, as good as school gets, anyhow." He smiled, but the smile fell when Luke didn't reply. Was it his talkative chatter that annoyed Luke so much?

After a few more minutes of silence, Luke cleared his throat again. "And, uh, football?"

Bo grinned. "Football's great! We've got practice tonight and tomorrow, and Saturday's the first playoff game – if we beat Hatchapee, we go to another playoff game next week, and then the regional championship. Coach Maugul thinks we can do it."

Luke gave a little smile. He'd read so much about the team and the coach in letters, it was almost strange to hear about it and see it in person instead.

They reached the school right then, and Luke pulled up to the curb so Bo could climb out. As the blond took his backpack and shut the door, he paused hopefully at the open window.

"Hey Luke?"

The Marine looked over to his cousin questioningly.

"Will you pick me up after practice?"

Luke gave the same tentative little smile. "Sure, Bo."

Bo grinned in earnest now. "Four o'clock. Don't forget," he teased.

"Four o'clock. I'll be here," Luke promised.

* * *

Luke was in a slightly better mood as he drove home, and he took his time, looking around at the sights, places and people he'd missed for so long. Just outside of town, though, one place caught his attention, and on a whim he pulled over into the parking lot.

The Red Rock Tavern had a region-wide reputation for serving the worst beer to the worst sort of men, and at seven-forty in the morning on a Thursday, it didn't have many customers. But Luke recognized one green pickup truck parked there – the same that had left the Boar's Nest parking lot just before Bo and Luke last Saturday evening.

Pocketing the truck keys, Luke made his way to the door and stepped inside. Though it was a bright morning outside, it was a dusty, dingy night inside, and it took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. When they did, Luke spotted who he was looking for, and he walked over.

Danny Winterson was just starting his daily routine with a mug of the swill the bartender called beer. He looked up at Luke's approach, somewhat surprised, and gestured to one of the many empty chairs.

"Well, if it ain't Luke Duke, Hazzard's own veteran Marine," Winterson quipped in a drawl.

Luke sat, studying the other man intently, then leaned back in his chair. "How'd you know, Danny?" he asked.

Danny laughed, taking a swig of his beer. "What do you mean, how'd I know? Who else _would_ know? Hank was the same way – cooing over his little baby girl, bragging about his plans to move to Nebraska, all the while jumping at shadows and looking over his shoulder day and night. You think it's so easy to leave it all behind?" Winterson laughed bitterly. "Just 'cause I'm missing a leg, doesn't mean I'm the only one with scars."

Luke nodded, looking down at his arm on the table, idly flexing his fingers and making a fist. "How do you get Home then?"

Danny shook his head, staring at his half-consumed beer. "Ain't that the question of the day. You think I'd be in here, if I knew?"

Luke sighed and closed his eyes. That wasn't the helpful answer he'd hoped for.

Danny peered at him, studying him was sharp brown eyes. "What happened?" he asked, almost kindly, without a hint of sarcasm or menace.

The Marine looked up, and was silent for several long minutes. Then he sighed, looking down at the table again, and slowly related what had happened Sunday night, and parts of what had happened since. When he was done, Danny Winterson nodded solemnly. It took another soldier to truly understand.

"I dunno, I don't even know what to do. I can't leave, but if I stay…all I can think of is who's gonna get hurt next," Luke was saying.

"I know what you mean," Danny said, waving to the bartender to bring a round for them both. Luke thanked him and took a sip of the beer, nearly gagging at the taste. He set it aside and resolved not to touch it again.

"I remember at the hospital, I scared the hell out of an orderly who woke me up one night, when he came to change my IV. Damn near broke his wrist. They put me on sedatives for three weeks after that."

Luke shook his head. What the hell was a man to do? "What about when you got back to Hazzard?"

Danny shrugged sullenly. "My old man hasn't said a word to me since I got here. He'd probably disown me if I wasn't a cripple. Good ol' Uncle Sam sends me my checks, and here I am."

There was a long silence again before Luke spoke.

"I got shot over there. Right in the ribs. Damned sniper took out three of mine and me before we got 'em." He laughed the same bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Son of a bitch nearly killed me, and as soon as I'm on my feet again, they send me right back out there. Patted me on the back, gave me a Purple Heart, and sent me back out."

"What did your folks say?"

"I didn't tell them. Not gonna, either. They don't need to know about that – any of that."

There was another long silence, as Danny swigged at his beer and Luke stared absently at the table. This time Danny spoke up.

"I miss it sometimes. The guys – the girls," he said with a smile, " – even the fighting, sometimes. There was nothing like it, you know?"

Luke nodded, smiling a little at a memory of his own. "Yeah, I know."

* * *

At four-thirty, Bo was trudging along the road to home carrying his backpack over one shoulder. He didn't notice the bright October sunshine, or the birdsong in the trees, or the quiet peace of a Hazzard afternoon. Luke had forgotten about him. 

The day had gone well, for a day at school. He was attentive in class, which surprised all his teachers, and earned him a few positive comments when the bell rang. The cafeteria was serving his favorite lunch, and he had a few quarters to afford buying it. He'd kicked butt at practice that afternoon, and was showered and changed by three-fifty to wait for Luke at the curb. He watched the older brothers and parents of his teammates drive up two and three at a time, and he refused more than a few offers to give him a ride home too, knowing that Luke was coming.

Then four o'clock turned into four-oh-five, four-ten, four-fifteen, and Bo stood there alone, watching the road hopefully. By four twenty-five, he picked up his bag and started walking, thinking maybe Luke had a flat and he'd meet him somewhere along the way. That hope diminished with each step he took, and with a heavy heart, Bo realized Luke must have forgotten him entirely.

Bo hardly looked up as he trudged along, but when he did, he saw something that stunned him to no end – a familiar white pickup, sitting next to a green pickup and a few other vehicles, all out in front of the Red Rock Tavern.

Luke was laughing with Danny over the latest story the infantryman told, when the front door of the tavern opened, flooding light into the dim barroom. Luke squinted and looked back at the new arrival. The smile was wiped from his face when he recognized the lanky silhouette with a backpack on one shoulder. Then the tavern door slammed shut again, and Luke scrambled to his feet, realizing he hadn't even looked for a clock in hours.

**You know, I think Luke just gave 'getting lost in conversation' a whole new meaning…**

"Bo!" he shouted after the closed door, and he entered the blazing afternoon sunlight at a run. Luke stumbled, blinded for a few moments, before he looked around and spotted the swiftly retreating figure walking out of the parking lot. "Bo, wait!"

Bo ignored his calls, but Luke saw him reach a hand up to wipe away tears. The elder cousin knew that if he ran after him, Bo could run harder and longer, so he jumped into the pickup to head him off. Luke caught up with Bo a few hundred feet down the road, but Bo didn't stop when the truck pulled up.

"Bo, come on, I'm sorry!" Luke called, to no avail. Sighing, he stopped the truck and got out, jogging to grab his cousin's arm. "Bo…" he said, panting – even the short jog taxed him.

The blond wrenched his arm away and walked faster. "Leave me alone, Luke!" he snapped hotly, hastily wiping away more tears.

"I'm sorry, Bo! I just…I wasn't…" Luke helplessly watched his cousin walk away, deaf to his apologies. Then all of a sudden, Bo stopped and whirled around, turning angry, tear-reddened eyes on his older cousin.

"What did I do, Luke?.!" he shouted, chest heaving. "WHAT DID I DO?.! You were my best friend! My brother! What did I do to deserve this?.! _Tell me what I did wrong!_"

When he received no answer, Bo turned again and stalked off, leaving Luke standing in the middle of the road in shock. Luke's shoulders sagged, and he bowed his head, closing his eyes against the tears.

"You didn't do anything, Bo…" he whispered to himself. "You didn't do anything."

* * *

A little later, Daisy and Jesse were relieved to see Luke driving the truck up to the farmhouse. They'd been worried sick, with him gone all day and not a word to anyone, but they couldn't exactly report a grown man missing when he'd only been gone for a matter of hours. What worried Jesse more, though, was how Luke headed straight for the barn, looking more miserable than he had all week. A half-hour later, Bo came walking up the driveway looking mad enough to spit nails, and Jesse soon learned at least part of the story. 

"I don't know!" was all Bo roared when Jesse asked him what was wrong. They were mucking out the stalls together, pitchforks in hand. After a few minutes of work, Bo calmed enough to growl a proper answer. "Luke was gonna pick me up after practice, and he forgot. He was drinking at the Red Rock with Danny Winterson," Bo spat the name hatefully, as though blaming the man for all his ills.

Usually Jesse would try to say something calming and comforting, but it this time seemed like Bo needed to spend his week's frustration in a flare of anger. He'd calm down, and they'd sort this out later.

When the finished with the stalls, Jesse sent Bo on to other chores while he spread fresh hay out for the mule and goats. As he expected, he heard rustling as Luke climbed down from the hayloft, having heard every word.

"I wasn't drinking," Luke said quietly, standing off to the side. "We just got to talking, and I lost track of time…"

Jesse stopped to look up at him. "You disappointed him pretty bad," he chastised gently.

"I know," Luke admitted, gazing towards the farmhouse. "I tried to apologize, but he wouldn't listen."

"Do you blame him? Give him some time to cool off," Jesse advised. "He'll listen then."

Luke nodded and sighed, and came over to help his uncle with the hay.

* * *

No one was more surprised than Daisy when Luke showed up at the dinner table and Bo stiffly stood up to leave. The blond only grudgingly obeyed when Jesse ordered him to sit back down, and he studiously ignored his older cousin for the duration of the meal. Luke was crushed by his little cousin's behavior, and it showed. He picked at the meal, hardly eating, and constantly glanced sideways to see if Bo would even look at him – which he wouldn't. Luke practically jumped to his feet when the meal was over. 

"Uncle Jesse, can I borrow the truck?" he asked, hands fidgeting restlessly. He had to get out of here.

Jesse frowned. He was taking Traveler on a 'shine run to Chickasaw tonight, so he had no reason to refuse, but the way Luke had been acting, he sure wanted to.

"Well, sure, Luke, why?"

Damn. He hadn't thought up a good excuse yet. "I'm, uh, meeting Cooter over at, uhm, the Boar's Nest." It would have sounded legit, if he hadn't stumbled over every other word.

"Oh…alright," Jesse reluctantly agreed. "Don't be out too late, now."

Luke barely heard the last bit, already halfway out the door. Frowning after him, Jesse picked up the telephone.

"Maybelle, get me the Davenport farm…"

* * *

Luke slumped down onto the barstool and ordered two longnecks, ignoring the odd friendly calls to him from around the little bar. He hadn't actually intended to end up here, but once he'd said it, the Boar's Nest seemed as good as place as any to go. His plan for the rest of the night naturally formed itself from there, and he set about achieving it by chugging down the first beer as quickly as possible. Luke was halfway through drinking the second one in similar style when a callused hand clapped him on the shoulder and a jovial voice greeted him. 

"Hey there, Lukas Dukas! Fancy meetin' you here!"

After choking on his beer, spraying part of it on the bar, and wiping the remainder off his chin with his sleeve, Luke turned around to look up at Cooter's relentlessly cheerful grin. Without asking permission, the mechanic sat down on the next bar stool, and ordered another round for the both of them.

As the night wore on, Cooter had no trouble figuring out just what Luke wanted to do with his evening. He didn't want to talk, which he proved by ignoring everything his friend said to him or asked him. He didn't want to flirt, which he proved by glaring icily at an old girlfriend who sat herself down in his lap. But he sure did want to drink.

After downing five beers to Cooter's two in the first hour, he slowed it up just a bit – mostly because the bartender refused to serve him beers at that rate. By hour three, Cooter was easily able to sneak the truck keys from his pocket, and by hour five, the mechanic and bartender both expected him to be on the floor at any moment. Just once, the mechanic tried suggesting that he ease off a little, to which Luke snapped, "It's my money, I'll spend it any damned way I please."

It was getting very late, and Cooter was starting to wonder if they'd be closing down the bar – he did have to work the next day. Sitting there on his barstool, he didn't notice the sounds among the usual bar noise until Luke turned around sharply and suddenly in his seat, with narrow eyes and a barked "Hey!"

When Cooter did turn around and look, he saw Lyle Elkshere and Cindy Matherly sitting two tables over, the former getting a little too friendly and the latter protesting none too lightly. Before Cooter could blink, Luke was on his feet (somehow) and headed in that direction.

"Leave the lady alone, Lyle," Luke growled, fixing the blond man with an angry glare. The distraction was enough for Cindy to break away from her would-be date and dash behind her rescuer. She was shortly joined by Cooter, who grabbed for his friend's arm.

"Luke, come on man, you don't want to do this," Cooter urged worriedly. He'd seen the expression on the Marine's face – a look of boiling anger usually reserved for those who threatened his family – and right now, Luke could do some serious damage. However, right now, Luke wasn't listening to him.

"What's it to you, Duke?" Lyle snarled back, getting to his feet and shoving the chair out of his way. "You lookin' to get a little action for yourself?"

"I'm lookin' to keep the lady safe from dogs like you, all paws and no honor."

Luke took a step forward just as Lyle did the same. Growing more nervous, Cooter pulled at his friend's arm again.

"This ain't a good idea, Luke! Someone's gonna end up hurt!"

Apparently, for all his bluster and bravado, Lyle Elkshere was thinking the same thing. Luke Duke had half a foot and fifty pounds of hardened muscle over him, and just now, looking at that black expression, Lyle realized he was messing with a live grenade just looking for a reason to explode. But Lyle wasn't a man to back down from a fight, and he took another step forward.

"Luke!" Cooter saw his hand ball into a Marine Division Champion boxer's fist, saw the muscles bunch in his arm and shoulder, saw the flash of fear in Lyle's eyes – all just moments before Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane burst into the barroom, gun in hand. All activity stopped.

"Aaaallllright, now! Just what's going on here?.!" the sheriff demanded, more than a little annoyed that the bartender had called Maybelle and Maybelle had called him while he was on his way home.

Lyle took the opportunity to scoot back out of range of Luke's fists – a wise and life-saving decision if there ever was one – and even Luke turned his attention to Rosco – or Ros_coes_, since there seemed to be about three of them standing there. Rosco, in turn, focused his annoyed expression on Cooter and Luke.

"Uh…heh heh…" Cooter tried to smile. "We were just headed home, weren't we, Luke?"

Luke frowned through the haze that had thickened considerably since losing focus on his opponent. "No, I was just about to teach Lyle Elkshere a hard lesson in manners," he countered.

"No, no," Cooter argued. "We were just about to go home. Come on, Luke."

One hand still on Luke's arm, he pulled his friend towards the door, past Rosco and the watchful bar crowd. A fight or an arrest – or both – would have been fun to watch, but it looked like Rosco was gonna let Luke Duke go just the same as that Winterson troublemaker.

Stumbling along behind Cooter outside, Luke fumbled through his pockets for his keys with his free hand, and came up empty.

"I think I dropped th' keys…" he frowned, peering down at the ground back towards the door.

"No, _I've_ got 'em, cause _you_ ain't drivin' like this, buddyro'," Cooter explained patiently. "Come on, now, we'll take my truck." He opened the passenger door for Luke, so very glad that Uncle Jesse had called him earlier and asked him to find his friend.

For his part, Luke decided not to argue, because four to one made for mean odds, and the ground seemed like a very unstable place to stand right now. With more than a little unnoticed help from Cooter, he climbed into the truck cab and lay back against the seat, watching with half-closed eyes as the mechanic shoved his feet inside and shut the truck door.

That was when Cooter noticed a slim figure hanging back near the building, wrenching her hands and looking in his direction.

"Hey there, Cindy," he called, and she stepped out into the light. "Look, I'm sorry about all that in there…"

"Oh, no, Cooter, it's alright, I really appreciate it…I'm glad things didn't get out of hand. Is Luke okay?" she asked worriedly.

"Oh, yeah, he'll be just fine. A few too many, that's all. I better get him home, though…" Cooter hinted, reaching for his truck door. Cindy seemed to want to say something, though, so he asked, "Are _you_ alright, darlin'?"

She wrung her hands again. "Well, yes, thanks to Luke…it's just, Lyle was my ride home, and…I don't really know anyone else here tonight…"

Cooter smiled. "Well come on, Cindy honey. I'll give you a ride home." A thought occurred to him. "Better yet – can you follow me back to the Duke farm in Uncle Jesse's truck? I'll give you a ride home from there."

Cindy smiled, happy to be helpful, and Cooter wondered if he'd get a thank-you kiss in the bargain.

* * *

Bo and Daisy were both still awake when the two trucks pulled up in the driveway, and both were very worried about their cousin. Bo had already given up on being angry with him – he just wanted Luke _back_, his cousin Luke, not the stranger who'd been there all week. He didn't know how to make that happen, but fighting didn't seem to be the way to do it. So, when Cooter pulled up with Luke in the passenger seat, Bo was right there with Daisy running out to meet them. 

"He's alright," Cooter reassured them both as he got out of the truck. "He's just…drunk."

Bo and Daisy could see that for themselves. The passenger side door slowly swung open, and Luke none-too-steadily climbed out, frowning as the door jumped out and hit his shoulder while he shut it. He took a couple steps, tripped on a rock that slid out from under his foot, and stumbled a few more steps until steadying arms reached out and caught him.

"Easy, Luke, I got ya."

Luke looked up at Bo's worried blue eyes and held his gaze for several long moments. Then, surprising everyone on scene, the elder Duke reached out and shoved Bo away.

"Stay 'way, Bo," he growled, then moved with determined steps towards the barn. How he managed to climb the ladder to the hayloft was anyone's guess, but he did, and then he was gone from sight.

Cooter moved his shocked stare from the dark barn to the two remaining Duke cousins, amazed at what he'd just witnessed. Bo looked crushed, and Daisy, saddened. She was the first to speak.

"Thanks for bringing him home, Cooter."

"Yeah, thanks, Cooter," Bo added quietly, turning away from the barn.

Cooter had a hard time finding the words. Much, much more was wrong here than he expected. "I, uh…look, no problem, y'all, I just wish…" He sighed. "Look, I gotta work in the morning, an' I know y'all should be hittin' the sack too, but…are y'all still helpin' Miss Lulu decorate for the Halloween dance tomorrow afternoon? Maybe I'll try to stop by then an' talk to Luke…"

Bo looked to Daisy – chalk one more up on the list of things he'd forgotten about lately. Saturday being Halloween, the Ladies' Auxiliary was holding a charity auction in the afternoon and a costume ball that night, all to benefit the Hazzard Annual Agricultural Scholarship Fund. Daisy had volunteered the Dukes weeks ago to help Miss Lulu set up and decorate the Boar's Nest for the events.

Daisy nodded gratefully. "We'll be there all afternoon, and I'll try to get Luke to come too. Thanks, Cooter. And thanks, Cindy, for bringing Uncle Jesse's truck back."

Bo seemed to notice her for the first time, standing awkwardly by the white pickup she'd parked in its proper spot.

"No problem, Daisy. Good luck – I hope Luke feels better."

Then Cindy climbed into Cooter's truck, and they were gone.

* * *

Bo waited anxiously in the living room while Daisy climbed up into the hayloft to check on Luke. It wasn't long before she returned with her report. 

"He's sleeping. I covered him up, and I think he'll be okay for the night," she said, slumping down onto the couch beside him. "Oh Bo, I don't understand this at all! Uncle Jesse said he just needs time and space, but Luke just seems to get farther and farther away from us!" she cried.

"From me, you mean," Bo corrected miserably. Daisy looked up to see a tear trickling down his cheek. "I thought it would be so great to have him home again…"

Daisy leaned over and wrapped her little cousin in a hug while he cried, but she knew it was small comfort for him. He and Luke had always been so close, it didn't seem like even a war could come between them, and now in just a few short days, their brotherhood looked like it was broken forever.

**Did y'all have as hard a time watching that as I did? I sure hope something changes soon, 'cause I don't know if I can bear to watch much more.**

* * *


	10. Cornered

**Author's Notes: I borrowed just a tad from my favorite Dukes scene for this one, but I hope I did it justice - it just worked out so well! Let's see - there's also some new notes in my profile, for anyone who's interested. I have yet to add favorite lines from reviews, though. Enjoy - and let me know if you _did_ enjoy it:)**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Cornered**

Luke opened his eyes and shut them again tightly, warding off the sunlight that burned its way into his vision. Then a shadow fell across him, blocking the sunlight, and he opened his eyes again – this time, to the sight of Uncle Jesse sitting on a hay bale in front of him. Luke groaned, holding a hand to his pounding head and wondering just how he'd gotten that drunk on just a couple of beers.

He found himself handed a mason jar of clear liquid by Jesse, smelling faintly of moonshine – hair of the dog, and well watered-down. Luke sat up enough to drink it all down, then lay back again until a dizzy spell passed and the nip of 'shine started to take effect. When he opened his eyes a third time, Uncle Jesse was still there, watching him quietly.

Luke pushed himself up from his tangled bed of horse blankets and hay, and leaned back to sit against another bale of hay, looking up at his uncle. Jesse handed him another mason jar – pure water, this time – and this one Luke sipped at slowly.

"Want to tell me what this is all about?" Jesse asked in a tone of barely restrained anger. When Luke said nothing, he elaborated. "You've got me an' Daisy worried near to death, Bo is walking around like a kicked pup an' lookin' like he just lost his best friend, an' I come home from a 'shine run to find you're passed out drunker 'n a skunk in the hayloft! Now, what in tarnation is going on?.!"

At Luke's continued stoic silence, Jesse realized anger might not be the best tactic. He tried something else.

"Luke, you an' me, an' Bo an' Daisy, we're all Dukes, and bein' a Duke – that _means_ something. We don't abandon each other when trouble comes along, and we work together through thick and thin. I know every one of you kids is there for me when I need help with the farm, and you've always been there for each other, too. But you've been shuttin' us out, and there's nothing we want more than to help. Now, if there's something wrong, I want you to tell me about it, so I can help make it right, Luke. Let me help, son."

His expression was pleading again, and Luke just couldn't stand that, but his uncle was blocking the only exit from the hayloft, and he had nowhere to run. He looked away, and Jesse could see the glimmer of tears in his eyes.

"I told you I don't belong here anymore, Uncle Jesse," Luke finally answered, fighting to keep his voice from quivering.

"What do you mean, Luke?" Jesse pressed gently.

"I mean I don't belong here, on this farm, in this family! I'll just end up getting someone hurt," his voice rose in anger and fell, trailing off into a mutter.

Jesse waited for him to go on, and he did, staring off at anything but his uncle.

"Last night at the bar, I was so mad… Lyle was just messing around with Cindy…and I was ready to kill him. I mean really kill him, Uncle Jesse…" Luke shook his head, hearing the excuses his uncle didn't say out loud – '_But you were drunk, Luke, and you were upset…'_

Jesse still waited, knowing there was more.

"And Sunday…Sunday…" The tears spilled over. "Bo followed me into the woods. I didn't realize it was him - I thought it was…someone trying to sneak up on me…" He looked up at his uncle, eyes pleading for forgiveness. "I had my knife…I almost killed him, Uncle Jesse," he whispered hoarsely. Luke shook all over now, tears streaming down his face.

In an instant, Jesse thought back to Monday morning – Bo's 'shaving cut', the way Luke turned pale and practically ran out of the kitchen, Luke crying as he packed his things to leave – and it all made sense. Now Jesse knelt down beside his eldest boy, gathering the veteran Marine into his arms.

"Shh…it'll be alright, Luke. It'll be alright…"

Luke just cried harder, breaking down every wall he'd tried to build around his volatile emotions in the last week. There wasn't anything he wanted more in the world than to go back to being a lost child comforted by loving, paternal arms. But sadly, the comfort was not to last for very long.

"Shh…shhh…" Jesse whispered soothingly. "Oh, my poor boy…my dear, sweet, gentle boy…" He didn't seem to realize he was thinking out loud.

And just like that, every muscle in Luke's body stiffened, and he pulled back from his uncle's embrace with angry, tear-reddened eyes.

"I ain't _one_ of those things, Uncle Jesse. Not anymore."

Then he was gone, down the ladder and off into the woods, running as fast and hard and his legs would carry him.

* * *

Luke's wild run barely took him into the trees before he was forced to stop, coughing and gasping for breath as he held his cramped and knotted ribs. Mentally he cursed the sniper who'd shot him, cursed Rob for dragging him out, cursed the doctor who'd removed the bullet and saved his life, and almost got as far as cursing the woman who'd brought him into this world, before he stopped himself in shame. He didn't turn back, though. Aching and sore, head pounding again, lungs strongly protesting, his feet carried him forward, and forward into the woods he went. 

_'Dear, sweet, gentle boy,'_ Luke thought bitterly as he tramped along, hands balled into fists at his sides. He hardly even looked at the direction he was going – he just crossed, avoided, or skirted the roads and farmhouses as he came to them. _'How can he still think that?.! How can he say it's gonna be alright?.! It's not! He's wrong!'_

Luke wiped at tears born as much from despair as from anger. _'Bo hates me, Daisy's probably ashamed to call me her cousin, and Uncle Jesse…he just doesn't understand.'_

But the longer Luke walked, the more his temper cooled, and the more he began to look around at where he was. The woods were a lot different by day, he noticed – now it seemed there were very few similarities between the sweet Georgia forest and the humid Vietnam jungles, rubber plantations, and rice paddies. It was nice, he thought, to just be out walking, not patrolling, not training, not anything but enjoying the day. His hurried, angry stomping eased into a more casual stroll, and he even smiled in a bittersweet kind of way, seeing the land where he'd spent so much time as a child.

He was far from the Duke farm, by several miles in fact, but here in the hills he'd learned to hunt and trap by rifle and bow under Uncle Jesse's firm guidance. The Duke moonshine stills were hidden out here, scattered about and well concealed to all but those who knew where to look. Here Luke would lead his younger cousins on hikes and fishing expeditions, guarding and protecting their every step like a faithful sheepdog, even though he was still a boy himself. More than a few times, he'd carried Bo home on his back, when the little adventurer burned all his energy on the trip out and was too tired to walk back. There were frogs and lightning bugs to be caught by the dozens, injured baby rabbits to be carried home and cared for, hawks and mice and squirrels to watch, songs to sing, games to play – there were a lot of good times out here.

A crack of sound in the air drew Luke's attention, but it wasn't the alarming crack of gunfire – it was the sound of a beloved Louisville Slugger hitting a baseball square-on, earning the batter's team an early home-run by the sound of it. The whoops and shouts from the nearby ball field carried into the trees, and Luke smiled. _That_ was the kind of thing he'd joined the Marines for – kids playing baseball after school on a sunny afternoon, peach cobbler cooling on the windowsill, the flag that flew out in front of the high school that the principal would run out in the pouring rain in his suit and tie to bring inside – for everything he'd been taught growing up about the strong protecting the weak and good triumphing over evil, everything he loved about this country, his home.

Then, as he skirted the baseball field and avoided the boys playing there, Luke was recalled to another memory from his childhood, one that didn't happen here in the hills and trees, but back home on the farm.

_The two boys and Jesse were out by the swing-set, the old wooden one Jesse had built when Luke was six, on a bright summer afternoon. Daisy was inside somewhere helping Aunt Martha with dinner, and Jesse was trying to console the boys._

_Still in his Little League uniform, Luke, age ten, kicked angrily at an innocent dirt clod lying there among the grass. Bo, age seven, sat in Uncle Jesse's lap on the swing, frowning unhappily with his lower lip stuck out._

_"It's only a game, Luke," Jesse said gently._

_"We lost!" Luke answered angrily, kicking at the dirt again. "And it's my fault! If I just hadn't dropped the ball…"_

_Jesse looked down at the little blond boy on his knee, who was watching his older cousin's every move with big, round eyes. He knew if Luke wasn't upset, Bo would probably happily be playing in the yard, untroubled by a single losing baseball game. Jesse sighed._

_"Luke, come here," he said firmly, holding out one arm. Still scowling, Luke came, and Jesse pulled him onto his other knee, one arm around each nephew. "Luke, it don't matter one bit if you won or lost, or whose fault it is."_

_Jesse could see the stubborn set to his jaw and the fire in his eyes, and he had to keep from smiling. That look came purely from his father, and it meant he was ready to argue the point to the ends of the Earth._

_"Do you know why it don't matter?"_

_Bo looked up at him uncle with the same big eyes. "Why, Uncl' Jesse?"_

_Jesse looked down at them both seriously. "Because you're my boys, and I love you, no matter what."_

_After a moment, Bo smiled that smile that earned him free candy from the lady at the general store in town, and he wiggled up to put his little arms around Jesse's neck, snuggling in close while Jesse hugged him back. Luke was still frowning, and he looked doubtful, until Jesse pulled him close for a hug too. Then Luke's arms replaced Bo's, and Jesse kissed the top of his head while the dark-haired boy murmured, "Love you too, Uncle Jesse."_

Luke grew thoughtful as he walked along. He could hear his uncle's words as clearly as if it were yesterday. _'You're my boys, and I love you, no matter what.'_ No matter what – my dear, sweet, gentle boy. No matter if he'd been to war, killed men, and been good at it? No matter if he'd been half an inch away from killing Bo too? No matter if he'd shunned his family, broken promises, gotten drunk…no matter? No matter _what_.

And Luke began to see things a little more clearly than he had in days.

Bo wasn't hurt. He'd stopped himself in time. It damned sure wouldn't happen a second time. And he doubted his little cousin _really_ hated him – it had always been Bo's way, to boil over in blind anger at the first provocation, then come back for forgiveness later. Luke had always been the more level-headed one – usually. Bo would cool off, just like Uncle Jesse said, and Luke could apologize then.

And Daisy? Daisy wasn't ashamed of him. Truth be told, she was worried about him, Luke knew. He saw the look in her eyes when she thought he didn't notice. In fact, she was probably worried about him right now – Uncle Jesse too. How long had he been gone?

Luke checked himself over and realized he still hadn't put on a watch, but looking at the sky, it must have been hours. It was mid-morning when he bolted from the barn, and it was late afternoon now, by Luke's reckoning. He frowned. It wasn't right to make them worry, and they were probably worried sick.

Luke also realized, as he took another step, that his feet were absolutely killing him, and he'd done himself no favors walking all this distance on them. He sighed and looked around to get his bearings. Best go find a pay phone and call Uncle Jesse for a ride. He was ready to go home.

* * *

By mid-afternoon, Daisy and Jesse had seen no sign of Luke for hours, and they _were_ worried. Jesse had even taken the truck out to look for him, but he had no idea where to look. Now it was pushing three-thirty, and they had to get going, to pick Bo up from practice and then go help Miss Lulu set up at the Boar's Nest like Daisy had promised. 

"Come on, Daisy," Jesse called. "Luke's a grown man, he can take care of himself. I'm sure he'll be here when we get back," he reassured her, despite his own reservations. He wasn't so sure Luke wasn't gone for good this time, and it was all his fault.

Reluctantly, Daisy joined him at the pickup truck, and soon they headed out.

An hour and a half later, the Dukes (minus one) were busy as bees at the empty Boar's Nest, redecorating and reorganizing for the auction and Halloween dance.

"Oh, thank you all so much for your help!" Lulu gushed. Jesse was hanging black and orange crepe decorations while Bo moved tables and chairs and Daisy wrote out numbered and labeled cards for each auction item on the long table by the bar. They were very nearly done, thanks to their combined efforts. "I just don't know what I'd do without you!"

"Oh, we're happy to help, Lulu," Jesse said from the ladder, tacking a grinning pumpkin cut-out in place.

Lulu smiled brightly, but looking at Daisy and Bo, she didn't think they looked very happy. She trundled over to where Daisy sat, frowning a little. As she settled her considerable girth into a chair, Daisy sighed and tossed aside yet another item card that she'd messed up. Lulu looked at her with concern.

"Oh, what _ever_ is the matter, dear?" she asked kindly. "I'm sorry to say it, but all three of you look as down as I've ever seen you! And where's Luke – didn't he come home last week?"

All three Dukes paused in their work, looking to one another for the right words. It was Bo who spoke first.

"Yeah, Luke's home, Miss Lulu – we're just worried about him, that's all. He ain't been himself lately," he explained with a sigh. Lulu looked to Daisy and Jesse, who both nodded agreement. She opened her mouth to speak, but anything she might have said was forgotten moments later.

"Aww, ain't that sad!" came a gruff, unfamiliar voice from the doorway. Daisy looked up and gasped to see three men in black ski masks standing there, the leader holding a gun. "You hear that, boys? Ol' Lukie ain't been himself lately! Well, why don't we relieve these good folk of their work, so they can run home and take care of him?" The leader gave the group a menacing sneer. "Now, put 'em up!" he ordered, and motioned with his gun for them all to move back against the wall.

Lulu and the Dukes did as they were told, eyeing the leader and the gun fearfully. The man nodded to his associates, and they began gathering the more valuable auction items from the table.

"Oh, no!" Lulu moaned, crying over each item in turn. "Not my mink coat! Not the pearl necklace!"

Bo stepped forward angrily. "Hey, come on, mister! This stuff's all been donated to raise money for the orphanage!" He gulped and stepped back as the gun was aimed at him.

"Well, wouldn't you know?" the leader sneered. "I was an orphan myself! How nice of you kind folks to donate to me!" He stepped back, watching them all, as his associates made a trip outside to load up the trunk of their car.

Bo looked helplessly from Jesse to Daisy to Lulu, knowing there was nothing he could do, and they watched the robbery go on.

When the two men made their second trip to the car, though, they were overlong in coming back. The masked leader grew edgy, covering the four innocents with his gun while trying to glance over his shoulder out the door.

"Willy! Skip!" he called out. "Hurry it up!"

"They're a little tied up right now, friend."

The masked man whirled to turn his gun on Luke, who stood in the doorway, raising his hands in surrender.

"Easy, friend. Don't want nobody to get hurt," Luke said placidly, stepping inside.

"Where are they?.! What did you do with them?.! Don't come any closer!" the gunman ordered frantically. He heard Bo shift behind him, and he swung around, pointing the gun at each of them in turn. Luke took another step forward, just eight feet from the gunman now, and the man swiftly turned his attention back to the Marine.

"Easy, friend," Luke repeated, and Bo marveled at his calm. His own heart was pounding in his chest.

"I'm not your friend! I said don't come any closer!" the man practically screamed as Luke took another slow, careful step. Six feet.

The man looked around wildly, Luke blocking his only exit, and no one was close enough to grab for a hostage. While he looked, Luke started to take another step, but the movement was too much for the gunman's wired nerves. He swung his gun around with a shout and fired.

The four onlookers were still cringing from the gun blast when Luke dove forward and barreled into the man, tackling him to the ground and sending his gun flying. A smart right cross made short work of the would-be thief, and by the time Luke picked himself up off the ground, police sirens were blaring loud and close in the Boar's Nest parking lot. Rosco's response was actually quick for once, after Luke CB'd from Jesse's truck and said the Boar's Nest was being robbed.

As the sheriff handcuffed the thieves and hauled them away – Lulu hanging onto his arm and sobbing hysterically the whole way – Bo and Daisy ran up to their cousin.

"Luke! Are you okay?.!"

"Where have you been?.!"

"You're bleeding!"

"Are you hurt?.!"

"How did you get here?.!"

Their questions came one after another, and Luke had to smile as he held up his hands to quiet them.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm just glad that guy was a lousy shot," he said, fingering a hole in his blue plaid shirt where the bullet had barely missed him. A bit of red stained the cloth where a tiny bit of skin was scraped off, hardly more than a bandaid would cover. "And I walked here – I been out walking all day. I just happened this way, right on time I guess, an' I figured there was something a little off about men in masks loading up their car out of the Boar's Nest."

Bo chanced to look back at Jesse, and his next question died on his lips when he saw his uncle's expression. Daisy looked back too, and likewise fell silent. Luke looked to his uncle, wide-eyed. He didn't think he'd ever actually seen his uncle turn that particular shade of purple.

"LUKAS KRISTOPHER DUKE!" Jesse roared when he finally found the words. "WHAT IN THE _GOOD LORD'S NAME_ DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?.!"

Luke's mouth hung open in stunned shock. "I…was…"

"YOU WERE WALKING INTO A _GUN_!" Jesse bellowed. "I don't care of you're a Marine, a Navy SEAL, or an astronaut, _I taught you more sense than that!_ You could have been **killed!** _I didn't get you back just so I could lose you again!_"

Luke stared at him, completely dumbfounded. One look at Bo and Daisy told him they agreed with every word, and he had no allies there.

"You better not even _think_ of doing something like that again, mister!" Jesse continued furiously, puffing and starting to run out of steam. He'd watched in terror as Luke stepped right into the gun, and when it fired… "I don't care how old you are, I'll turn you over my knee and tan your britches until you can't sit for a week!"

Starting to shake, Luke sat down hard in a chair by the wall, looking up again with that same bewildered expression. While he blinked, Bo and Daisy each hugged him tightly, and he had lost the power of speech entirely.

Still storming, Jesse looked out the door and saw that Lulu had left with Rosco, and there was no reason for them to stay.

"Let's go, you three," Jesse ordered gruffly. "Back to the farm. We'll finish things here later."

Arms around his waist, Bo and Daisy escorted their cousin out to the truck while Jesse locked up, and Luke was still too shocked to push them away. He didn't understand. Didn't…didn't he do good? He stopped the bad guy. So what if he got hurt – right? It was just a gun – right? Guns were normal, gunfire was normal, danger was normal – wasn't it? Wasn't it? But…if it was…why was Uncle Jesse so mad?

It wasn't until they were home, climbing out of the truck, that Luke found his voice again.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Jesse," he said, barely in a whisper. "I'm sorry."

The family all walked towards the house, but when they reached the porch, Luke could go no further. He'd thought his uncle's words over and over, trying to understand, and all of a sudden, he **did**. He sank down on the swing, struck hard as he realized what he hadn't truly realized all week: this was **Hazzard**. There was no enemy, there was no war, there was no ever-present threat of imminent death. There were no assault rifles, no tanks, no mortars, no anti-personnel mines, no base camps, no orders, no officers. There was no expectation that he function at his best when things were worst, when bullets were flying and men were dying all around him. This was Home – safe, loving, forgiving, quiet, happy, Home.

Seeing Luke's blind distress, Bo and Daisy sat down on either side of him, holding him tight between them. After a good ten minutes, Luke looked up at each of them, still wide-eyed, as though seeing them for the first time. Then Luke returned their gesture, putting an arm around each of them, and before long he was shaking with soft sobs. Daisy and Bo leaned in close and cried with him, for him, for themselves, for everything they'd all been through in the last three years. Jesse watched over them quietly from the doorway of the farmhouse, thinking that somehow, things would be just fine.

After their tears had spent themselves, the three cousins sat quietly for some time on the porch, not saying a word. Eventually, reluctantly, Daisy quietly excused herself to go start dinner, as the evening was growing late. Bo and Luke remained on the porch swing, still leaning against each other for comfort, like a pair of frightened colts during a storm. Emotionally exhausted and physically drained, Luke grew tired, and before he knew it, Bo was shaking him to wake him up.

"Come on, cuz. You look like you need some sleep."

Bo gently pulled him to his feet, and Luke looked around, realizing the sun had set while they sat there. Then Bo led him inside, and Luke numbly gave each of his cousins and his uncle a hug and a kiss goodnight before he made his way down the hall. Daisy had kept his bed made and ready for him, so all Luke had to do was pull back the covers and pull off his boots, and he was soon asleep under the blankets. After dinner, Bo wasn't long in turning in himself. Both cousins slept heavily, after a very long and difficult week.


	11. Back In The Saddle

**Author's Notes: Here ya go, second-to-last chapter. Yes, second-to-last, not the last! Don't let that "The End" at the end fool ya. :-D Hopefully this doesn't disappoint. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Back In the Saddle**

The darkened room was warm and quiet, and someone had taken great care to close the drapes over the window and block out the sunlight that might bother Luke. Early that morning, Jesse gently asked Bo if it was alright if they didn't wake the Marine for his game, and Bo agreed – if this peaceful sleep wouldn't do him good, then nothing would.

Luke woke anyhow, just as the pickup's engine faded off down the drive. He yawned and stretched lazily, looking around. The first thing he saw was a folded note on the nightstand beside him. Staying under the warm covers, he reached for it, and could just barely make out Daisy's handwriting in the dim light.

_'Luke –  
__We're gone to Bo's football game. Sleep well. There's sandwiches in the fridge if you're hungry. Back around noon.  
__Love, Uncle Jesse, Daisy & Bo'_

Luke smiled. It was just like his family. They'd been trying so hard to be there for him, this week, and he'd been trying so hard to push them away. What a fool he'd been.

With a sigh, he set the note aside, then reluctantly pushed aside the blankets and swung his legs over the side. He winced as he set foot to the floor, feeling where his raw sores had cracked and scabbed the day before. When he lifted one foot to his knee, he saw a sock as red- and yellow-stained as his first day home. Nothing had healed in the last week that hadn't been torn open again.

Getting to his feet, Luke spent the next twenty minutes showering and dressing. It was early still – just after eight – but Uncle Jesse and his cousins had left early so Bo could warm up with the team and Jesse and Daisy could get good seats.

Then he moved out into the kitchen to gather the sandwiches waiting there – cold roast venison on homemade wheat – plus a few other items, then back to the bedroom, where he started packing. He ducked into the bathroom long enough to find a bandaid for the nick on his arm, and before long, Luke slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, and started out down the driveway. He paused at the barn, where Bo had hung the fresh-made coonskin cap, and Luke took it along with him, heading up the road towards the Kellers' farmhouse.

* * *

It was quarter after ten, and the game had only just begun. Once again, the opposing team won the coin toss, and Bo was out with his defense first thing. He played half-heartedly, urging his teammates on, but his heart wasn't in it. He just had too much on his mind to focus, and despite agreeing with Uncle Jesse this morning, he wished Luke were here. 

One of his teammates finally got the ball, holding up under a hefty Hatchapee pile-up to take possession for Hazzard. As the Hawk defense cleared the field, Bo ambled towards the bench, heaving a sigh as he sat. He gulped down a cup of water while he watched the Hawk offense take the ball downfield towards the Hatchapee goal – and then Bo lost all focus on the game entirely as he spotted a figure standing in the shadows of the trees out beyond the goal post. Luke came!

Bo grinned as Luke gave a wave, and for the next two quarters, he gave the team everything he had. The Hatchapee offense didn't hardly manage to complete a single play, with the youngest Duke on the field, and Coach Maugul smiled proudly at him each time the defense returned to the sidelines. At halftime, Bo jogged over to meet his cousin by the trees, away from the teams and the crowds of family and friends. The Hatchapee coach was giving his team a round lecture on tactics as he passed by.

Luke smiled as Bo came over, the linebacker dripping sweat and panting but loyal as ever. The Marine stood leaning against a tree, arms crossed across his chest, where he had watched the whole first half. He, too, was very proud of his cousin, for the way he played and the way he led his defense.

"Hey, Bo," he greeted simply, still smiling.

"Hey Luke," Bo returned, with a hint of hesitation. What was going on _now_?

Luke saw his little cousin's hesitation, but he understood, and gestured towards the two Morgan horses that stood saddled and tied behind him, grazing where they could reach.

"I thought maybe, when the game was over, you might want to go for a ride, an'…we could talk a little," Luke explained.

Bo looked from him to the horses in surprise. "Really? You mean it?"

Luke nodded. "I mean it."

Bo hardly had to think it over. "Well yeah, that'd be great!" He grinned, and Luke smiled back.

"Good! I'll wait here for you. Now, you'd best get back – looks like they're about to start. Nice work out there, by the way."

Bo grinned wider, and after one more look at Luke and the horses, he jogged back to his team.

* * *

The football game ended much the way Coach Maugul had expected – the Hawks won by a modest amount, and they were on their way to another playoff game and the regional championship. He'd never seen Bo play better, and the young Duke's enthusiasm in spite of the high stakes spurred his teammates, defense and offense, to greater heights. 

Luke watched from a distance as Bo met Jesse and Daisy in the field among the celebrating crowd, and he saw Bo point and Jesse and Daisy look in his direction. They waved, and he waved back, but stayed where he was. After hearing and approving of the boys' plans, Jesse and Daisy left with the crowd, while Bo disappeared into the locker rooms in the school to shower and change.

By the time Bo came out, letting the noon sun dry his hair, Luke was leading the horses around the edge of the field, and he met Bo by the goal post.

"Ready to go?" Luke asked, handing him one set of reins.

"Lead the way," Bo answered. He quickly checked over the straps and swung into the saddle, smiling as his older cousin did the same.

"Let's go, then," Luke said, urging his mount forward into the trees. Bo was quick to follow, and off they went.

When Luke walked up the road and asked Jonas Keller if he could borrow two mounts for the afternoon, his neighbor didn't hesitate. The Duke children had learned to ride on his horses, and they were of invaluable help in gentling and breaking young colts and fillies, for sale or work. What's more, Eli Keller was thrilled with the coonskin cap Luke brought for him, and when the Marine rode off with his green duffel bag tied behind his saddle, the boy was proudly showing it off to his mother.

Luke's mount for the day was Sunshine, a sweet-tempered stallion nothing like his sire, Georgia Twister, or his later offspring, Black Morgan. The liver-chestnut Morgan could be bought for an apple, and for a bucket of oats, he'd gladly plow forty acres in a single afternoon. Little Eli delighted in riding the big, gentle stallion around the walking circle. At fourteen, Luke had trained the horse to bit and saddle.

Bo's mount – another Morgan of Georgia Twister's line – was a bit feistier than his docile brother, and that suited Bo just fine. The spirited Laredo was nimble and fast, impatient under the plow harness, and if the Kellers had any interest in horse racing, he'd be just the animal for it. Bo had been working with Laredo when Luke left for the Marines, and they made a fine team, but he was no child's horse by any stretch of the imagination.

Luke led the way along a narrow forest track, and for a while they rode single file and silent, just enjoying the afternoon. Eventually the track turned east and opened out into the hills, and Bo came up alongside his cousin.

"We were gonna just let you sleep," Bo said, breaking the silence. "You were pretty out of it."

Luke smiled. "I couldn't miss your game, could I?" he said. "I woke up just when you guys left."

"Yesterday was a hard day," Bo commented thoughtfully. He didn't think he'd ever seen Luke cry like that.

"Yeah," Luke agreed, and his smile fell. He said nothing for a long time, and Bo worried that he'd said the wrong thing again. Then Luke looked up at his cousin as the horses walked along.

"Bo – I'm sorry," he said earnestly, meeting his cousin with sad blue eyes. "This whole week…" Luke shook his head. "I've been kinda messed up, and…I did some things, and I said some things…I'd take it all back if I could."

Bo looked down uncertainly. "I figured you were mad at me," he said quietly.

Luke reined Sunshine to a stop, and Bo did the same, as Luke reached for his arm.

"You didn't do _anything_, Bo. I wasn't mad, I was…I was just plumb terrified, and I didn't have enough sense to figure out what to do about it. You're my little cousin, and I love you, just like always."

Bo looked at him doubtfully. "But, Sunday…"

Luke shook his head, urging Sunshine to a walk again. "Sunday, you scared the crap out of me, that's all." When Bo still looked doubtful, Luke elaborated a little. "Bo – the whole time over there, we spent a whole lot of time looking for an enemy that was very good at hiding from us, and very good at ambushes. Sometimes at base camp, we were relatively safe, but out in the jungle…we were always waiting for something to happen. So Sunday, I was out in the woods, in the dark…"

"And I came sneaking up on you," Bo finished, finally understanding. Heck, he'd have yelled at him too, if he'd known.

"Exactly," Luke said. He mentioned nothing about the knife – if Bo didn't realize it, then he'd let sleeping dogs lie.

"But the rest of the week…"

Luke shook his head. He didn't want to go over all of it – it was hard enough to say this much, but it needed to be said, and he felt he owed his cousin an explanation. "Like I said, I've been real messed up all week. Half the time _I_ didn't even know what I was doing."

"You sure worried us plenty," Bo said with a frown, thinking of Thursday night.

"I know, and I'm so sorry, Bo," Luke apologized again, thinking of Thursday afternoon. "It wasn't fair of me to put you through all that."

"Uncle Jesse told us you might have a hard time with things when you got home – nightmares and stuff, you know?" Bo shook his head, and both were quiet for a bit, until he spoke up again. "What made you change your mind?"

Luke smiled. "Uncle Jesse, mostly, back at the Boar's Nest."

Bo snorted. "I don't think I've _ever_ seen him that mad."

That earned a chuckle from Luke. "Me neither. I needed it, though," he admitted.

They rode in silence for a long while, over the rolling hills and along dry creek beds, heading generally north and east. Eventually Luke heard his cousin's stomach growling over the motion of the horses, and he led the way to a shady spot for a break. They tied the horses to a couple tree limbs, and Bo was delighted when Luke produced a picnic blanket from his bag, and more importantly, food. Roast venison sandwiches joined four canteens of sweet tea and half a carefully packed cherry pie, and both boys dug in hungrily.

Partway through his second sandwich, Bo looked up, licking crumbs off his lips. "I'm glad you're home, Luke," he said honestly. For a moment, he thought he saw Luke blinking back tears before he smiled and replied.

"I'm glad to _be_ home, Bo."

* * *

After lunch, the Duke boys returned to the saddle and rode for most of the afternoon. Their conversation turned to lighter things, and it was a conversation Luke was happy to have back again. However, Bo didn't realize there was an actual direction to their wanderings, until they came up to the side of a rather ramshackle farmhouse, and Luke dismounted. Bo followed his cousin's lead, tying Laredo's reins to a fencepost, and Luke turned to him. 

"You can come if you want, or stay here, but I need to talk to someone here."

Bo nodded understanding, and followed Luke as he went up to the front door and knocked. He was curious, but he also wasn't leaving Luke alone in whatever this was.

An older man answered the door, a weathered farmer of Hazzard stock. He frowned at the two young men on his doorstep, and spoke through the screen door.

"Can I help you?" he asked neutrally, in a deep, rough voice that didn't get much use.

"Mr. Winterson?" Luke asked, and the man nodded silently. "My name is Luke Duke…this is my cousin Bo…we live west of here…"

"I know who you are," the old farmer said.

Luke faltered, then gathered himself and went on. "Mr. Winterson, I was hoping I could talk to you about Danny."

The elder Winterson frowned deeper and looked out into the yard past the Duke boys. "Is he in some kind of trouble? What did he do now?"

Luke sighed and shook his head. "I haven't seen Danny since Thursday, and he doesn't know I'm here."

"What do you want, then?"

Luke shifted his feet uncomfortably. This wasn't a conversation he'd envisioned having through a total stranger's screen door. "Mr. Winterson, I just…got back…a week ago, from the Marines overseas – and I have a fair idea of what Danny's been through. From what I've heard, he hasn't been doing very well since he got back, and I came to say…I came to say, Danny needs you, Mr. Winterson."

Winterson continued to frown, staring at Luke through the screen door. "Doctors said he's getting along fine," he finally said, almost defensively.

Luke shook his head. "Not because of his leg, Mr. Winterson. He needs _you_. I know you don't hate him the way he thinks you do. You wouldn't be worried or standing here talking about him if you did."

The old farmer's features finally softened with shock, and he searched the Marine over. "He thinks I hate him?"

Luke nodded solemnly. "He said you haven't spoken a word to him since he got back."

"I…I…I didn't know what to say…and now he's never home…"

Now Bo stepped forward, putting a hand on Luke's shoulder. "Tell him you love him, Mr. Winterson…and keep telling him until he listens."

Winterson bowed his head, closing glistening eyes. "I will…I will…oh Lord, I will…" He looked up. "Thank you boys," he said hoarsely, voice thick with unfamiliar emotion.

"I just…I want to see him whole again, sir," Luke said. He glanced at Bo, standing at his side. "I don't know what I'd do without my family."

After saying their goodbyes and wishing him well, the Duke boys returned to their horses and mounted quietly. Luke led the way back west again, towards home, and Bo was silent for a long time, thinking over what he had heard and seen. There was much more to this than he ever imagined. He'd thought of war as a scary, dangerous thing, yes, but only scary in the moment, like a charging bull or a black tornado, and when it was over, it was over, maybe with a few bad memories left over. Now it seemed more like a ghost – a thing shot dead that returns to haunt day and night, strange and unpredictable. Was that what Luke meant when he said he'd been plumb terrified, and didn't know what to do?

Bo looked over at his cousin, frowning thoughtfully. How often had he been scared, and Luke had been there to comfort and protect him? Had anyone been there for Luke, the last three years? The question disturbed him, and Bo didn't like to think of the answer. Then he thought back to that second night Luke was home, and how he'd wondered about Luke's knife, and what he was scared of here in Hazzard. Bo understood better now.

"You're awful quiet," Luke commented, shattering the silence.

"Just thinking," Bo answered, and his cousin smiled.

"I know, I can see the steam."

Bo made a face at his cousin, then grinned. Then he realized, as Luke grinned back, that this, right here, was what chased those ghosts away, and protected his cousin better than any gun or knife.

Luke glanced at the sun low in the sky. "We'd best get back. It's getting late."

Bo grinned mischievously. "I'll race ya."

"Loser grooms the horses."

"You're on." With a whoop, Bo kicked Laredo into a gallop, and he was off.

Luke watched him disappear into the trees, smiling and shaking his head, wondering how long it would take for Bo to realize he was going in the wrong direction. Then he turned Sunshine in the _right_ direction and kicked in his heels.

"Gee on there, Sunshine! Ha!" he shouted, and the race was on.

* * *

Even though Bo lost the bet, Luke wasn't about to leave him to do _all _the work, so by the time Bo finished grooming the horses, Luke was just about done cleaning out the six stalls in the Kellers' barn. The work went faster when they talked and joked back and forth, and before long, they were thanking Jonas Keller and walking home. On the dirt road, Bo noticed his older cousin's painful gait, and he slowed down his long-legged strides to accommodate, throwing a comradely arm around Luke's shoulders. 

Back at the farmhouse, Jesse and Daisy were in the kitchen with Cooter, talking over lemonade and pie. He'd arrived at the Boar's Nest the day before only to find it locked and shut, and a call for an emergency tow job had kept him busy until it was too late to call on his friends. He'd finally caught up with Jesse and Daisy when they stopped by his shop after the football game, and now he was getting the lowdown on the week's events.

"I guess Luke must be feeling better," Daisy was saying, "'cause he showed up at the game with a couple of Mr. Keller's horses, and asked Bo to go riding with him, like Uncle Jesse said…but I guess we'll see."

Cooter nodded, taking another sip of his glass. He frowned, definitely concerned, but his frown disappeared entirely when he happened to glance out the window. "Well, looks like we'll get to find out soon – here's Bo an' Luke now."

Daisy and Jesse turned to look, and saw the boys strolling arm in arm up the driveway, inseparable brothers once more.

"Afternoon Uncle Jesse, Daisy, Cooter," Luke greeted pleasantly when he came in, setting the bag on the table to empty out the used dishes. "Those sandwiches were great, Daisy, thanks."

Daisy was openly shocked when he deposited the dishes in the sink, then walked over to give her a heartfelt hug and kiss on the brow. Satisfied, Luke settled himself against the kitchen counter, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and smiled.

Jesse looked from nephew to nephew in hopeful appraisal. "Things alright between you boys, then?" he asked.

Bo grinned, helping himself to a bite of Daisy's pie. "Yup!"

Now Jesse and Daisy smiled too.

For his part, Cooter stood and smiled broadly, draping an arm around each Duke boy's shoulders. "Well good! I tell ya, Lukas Dukas, it's a full-time job keeping an eye on this rugrat," he joked, ruffling Bo's hair, "an' I'm glad you're back home to share the workload again!" he finished, clapping Luke on the back.

"You're telling me!" Luke joked right back. "After Bo, commanding forty Marines in a war zone was a piece of cake!" While they laughed, he stepped over to the table to retrieve the near-empty duffel bag. This time, Jesse was sure he saw him wince, and he stepped forward.

"Let's go take care of those feet, before you kids get to talkin' and running off," Jesse said. Luke looked up, a little surprised, then nodded and took his leave of his friend and cousins. Jesse followed him down the hall.

In the bathroom, they sat as before, and Jesse sighed sadly when he saw the condition of Luke's feet. He took the washcloth from his nephew and gently cleaned the blood away, then worked to patch up his Marine like he would care for skinned knees and elbows. Luke tried his best not to cringe while his uncle worked, but dang it, it hurt!

"Are things really alright, Luke?" Jesse asked softly, wrapping a layer of gauze around one foot to hold the deeper splits closed.

"I'm a lot better than I was, Uncle Jesse – thanks to you, and Bo, and Daisy. Guess I just had a few things to figure out, to get my head on straight," Luke answered honestly.

"No more running away?" his uncle asked, looking up with questioning eyebrows.

"No more running away," Luke promised, and he meant it.

"I'm still here if you want to talk, Luke," Jesse told him gently, waving for him to switch feet.

"I know, Uncle Jesse. And…I might take you up on that. But not today."

Jesse smiled. "I know. It's alright – whenever you're ready, I'm here. Let things settle a little first, hmm?"

Luke nodded. He'd do just that.

* * *

Cooter joined the Duke family for an early dinner, and he kept them entertained with the tales of his own exploits that week. Afterwards, Daisy and Jesse started working on dozens and dozens of caramel-dipped apples for the evening's trick-or-treaters, while the boys all disappeared into the barn – not to the hayloft, but to the sawhorses where a battered V8 engine awaited knowledgeable hands. It turned out to be one Halloween night that the fun-loving Duke boys couldn't care less about. 

The next afternoon, after church and a light lunch, Luke took Daisy aside to apologize and talk with her a little bit too, but there was no real damage done – she was just glad to have him back again. Later that night, the quarter moon found Luke standing on Lookout Point over the lake, chucking his Marine-issued knife as far and hard as he could into the water, while Bo waited patiently in the truck. His dogtags nearly followed, but he couldn't quite throw them away. In the end, he buried them in his dresser drawers along with a few other keepsakes no one would see for many years.

It was another week before he had the first of many conversations with Jesse, about the nightmares that continued to plague him, after receiving a letter back from Rob urging him to do exactly that. His next letter to his friend was considerably happier than the first.

And the story doesn't end there. It goes on and on, resurfacing here and there as memories and ghosts are wont to, until the day an old soldier goes to his final rest in peace. His feet healed, his heart healed, and he slept peacefully again, most nights. By the time his hair grew out and summertime rolled in, his scars had faded with his nightmares, and between revenuers and races, Luke had other things to worry about. And his family was there through it all.

**

* * *

**"_And somewhere in an honest laugh,  
__It'll finally hit me that I'm Home…back Home…"  
_- 'Home' by Tim McGraw " 


	12. Epilogue

**Author's Notes: Evening, ladies and gents! With no further ado, here is the last chapter of this little saga. Instead of lyrics as a supplement to this chapter, I would instead refer you to a painting, if you can find the image online - "Reflections" by Lee Teter. The most magnificent A. brought it to my attention, and it fits this chapter perfectly. My thanks again to A., S., and B., who all made this story possible! Enjoy!**

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* * *

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**Chapter 12: Epilogue**

There were easily two hundred people there, all crowded around – men, women, and children – but there was no pushing or shoving. Those children old enough to understand were solemn and quiet, and those who were too young were quickly hushed with bottle and bib. Some stood still and silent or quietly weeping in one place, while others moved along the line that formed itself at the small end of the L, trailing from A to Z. The black marble shone in the wan sunlight of a November afternoon, except for the places were the smooth polish was interrupted by a carefully chiseled name.

Jesse, Bo, and Daisy were quiet, following their kinsman close, but not enough to crowd. Luke moved slowly, reading each name, pausing at the ones he recognized. All three Dukes knew he didn't just see names, he saw battles, ambushes, firefights, patrols, nights back at back camp, days in the field – and men dying. It was hard to read just how he was taking it – whether this trip had been a good idea or not. Luke was very good at putting on that mask, where only his eyes would tell the truth, and Bo couldn't see his eyes right now. So he walked, and they followed, feeling a twinge of sadness every time he reached out to touch another name.

The odds were great, but not impossible, for what came next. Luke paused beside three new arrivals, an older woman and her two children, and when the woman spoke to her son and daughter, Luke took his eyes off the wall to turn and look.

"There he is," she said tearfully, pointing to a name. The girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, bent down to place a bouquet of flowers against the black marble, while the boy, maybe nine or ten, stared hard at the name.

A heavy breath shuddered in Luke's chest, because he recognized that name. Zachary Salazar had been a Marine in the platoon under his command, and he'd been there for the man's dying words – words of love for his family, with a picture of his newborn baby boy in his hand.

"Mrs. Salazar?" Luke asked carefully. She looked up with tears, but no recognition, in her eyes. "I knew Zach," he said softly. "I'm Luke Duke…I was the leader of his platoon…"

The woman hardly seemed to know what to say. The tears spilled over on her cheeks, and the children looked up distrustfully at this stranger who upset their mother.

Luke searched his memory for the names. "Jeremy – Jeremy Alexander," he finally said, looking at the boy. Eight pounds, eleven ounces, Zach had quoted so often to anyone who would listen. He was even nicknamed Eight-Eleven by the other boys, for the two weeks until he was killed. "And Katie – Katie Elizabeth."

"Kat," the girl corrected automatically, looking Luke over. She didn't really know, at the time, just where her daddy went and why he didn't come back, and since then she'd learned a little from what her mother had told her. Was her daddy like this man before her, then? She frowned, looking at him, then decided it would be alright if he was.

Luke looked sadly at the two children. He never would have guessed that he'd see a father's children grown when the father himself could not.

"Your father loved you very much," he told them quietly, not noticing his family and several complete strangers watching tearfully. "Just before he died, he asked me for your pictures, from his pack…" Luke's voice dropped lower, hoarser. "The last thing he said was, 'God will watch over them, Sarge, and so will I'."

Then Luke seemed to notice the widow's tears for the first time, and he realized how much he must have upset her. "I'm sorry," he apologized, shaking his head and taking a step back.

The widow Salazar, however, took a step forward, and reached for his arm. "Thank you, Mr. Duke," she whispered through her tears. "Thank you."

* * *

By the time Luke reached the far end of the wall and a few feet past it, he felt like he'd just finished running a marathon. His limbs felt weak and watery, and he might not have found the strength to return to the car, if a strong arm hadn't wrapped around his shoulders and held him up as they walked along. Bo and Daisy followed behind their uncle and cousin, and not a word was said. 

Luke was quiet for the whole drive back to the hotel, and his family let him be. He numbly followed his uncle into the elevator and out onto the third floor, where they were staying in two rooms side-by-side. The Duke family entered the room Jesse was sharing with Daisy, and Luke crossed into the other room through the connecting doorway, Bo close behind. When they had rid themselves of dress shoes, tight collars, wallets and purses, Jesse and Daisy looked into the boys' room through the open door. They found Bo leaning against the window frame, likewise divested of uncomfortable clothing, watching Luke where he sat on one of the two beds.

Uncle and cousin took a few steps inside, and saw their Marine staring down at a small object in his hands, a thoughtful frown on his features. Jesse joined Bo by the window, while Daisy stepped to Luke's side and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, a curious expression on his face.

"Did I ever show you this, Daisy?" he asked softly, knowing full well he hadn't. He handed her the small black velvet box and let his hands fall to his lap, watching her reaction.

"I don't think so…" she began, but her eyes widened when she opened the case. "Oh, Luke…" she breathed, fingering the purple and white ribbon. Daisy looked down at him, her eyes full of concern. "Is this yours?"

He nodded silently.

"Oh Luke," she whispered again, finding a seat beside him on the bed and leaning her head on his shoulder. He watched as Uncle Jesse slowly crossed the room to glance at the contents of the black velvet box, but Jesse's expression showed that he was only confirming his guess. Bo didn't move – he'd already seen the Purple Heart. Feeling Daisy lean in close, Luke hung his head, feeling a little ashamed at keeping it from her for so long.

"I was shot, a few months before I came home," Luke started quietly. "There was, uhm…" he swallowed, taking a breath. "There was a sniper…he took out three of my guys, one after the other. No one could spot him – there was too much cover, too many trees…" Luke stared into the carpet as he told his story, eyes blank as he relived the scene in vivid detail. "So I…I broke cover to draw him out, so someone could get a bead on him. He shot me, Mike shot him, and an attack broke out…" Luke shook his head. "We held our ground until the rest of the company arrived, then beat an ordered retreat back to base. Well, not 'we' – _I_ wasn't doing much of anything but lying on the ground at that point – Rob dragged me out of the heavy fire with a bullet in his leg, and a chopper evac'd the both of us." He looked up, finally, and saw tears on the faces of all his family. He could feel Daisy's tears soaking into the shoulder of his dress shirt.

"Where were you hit?" she asked raggedly, sniffing and trying to compose herself.

"Here," he answered softly, holding a hand to the spot at the base of his ribs. Daisy lifted her hand and touched the spot, feeling the years-old scar tissue beneath the light fabric.

"That could have killed you," she realized.

Luke's answer was barely a whisper: "Yes." An instant later, Daisy's arms were wrapped around his neck, and his shirt was gathering another damp patch of salty tears. "It's okay, Daisy, it was a long time ago…" he soothed, hugging her tightly. When she had calmed down, Luke looked up at his uncle. "Doc Appleby said it's why I get chest colds so easy in the winter…scar tissue," he explained. Jesse nodded, and Luke's attention returned to Daisy as she hugged him again.

Then Jesse stepped forward, pulling Luke to his feet in a bear hug that could have cracked ribs. Bo was close behind, drying his own tears – he'd heard the tale before, but it was no less frightening the second time around. He claimed a hug of his own, and all four Dukes stood close together, drawing on the nearness for support. Then Luke reached a hand up, rubbing weary eyes.

"I'm, uh…I'm kinda tired," he told his uncle and cousins, shoulder sagging. "I think I'm gonna lay down for a little while."

Jesse nodded again. "Alright, Luke. You do that – we'll wake you for dinner."

Luke nodded gratefully, and Jesse ushered Bo and Daisy out while the young man sat back on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. Jesse picked up the black velvet box from where Daisy had left it on the coverlet, looking sadly at the contents for a moment before placing it on the nightstand. Then he leaned over his eldest nephew, kissing his brow and stroking his hair.

"Sleep well, son. We'll be in the other room, if you need anything."

In the other room, Bo flopped down onto Daisy's bed and spent some time flipping channels, but there was nothing much of interest to watch. After a while he looked up at Jesse beseechingly. Jesse considered, then nodded silently, and Bo was on his feet, cautiously easing the partition door open and peeking into the other room. He smiled a little and shut the door, turning back to Jesse and Daisy.

"He's out cold," Bo reported. "Didn't even get under the covers."

Jesse nodded. "Good. Lord knows it's been a hard day for him already."

Bo sat down on the edge of the bed. "I don't know if this was such a good idea anymore," he said unhappily. It was his savings from this summer that paid for the trip, a birthday gift of sorts to his cousin. Daisy didn't quite know what to say, because she'd been thinking the same thing, but Uncle Jesse shook his head.

"I can't think of anything better for Luke," Jesse said. Niece and nephew looked up in surprise, and he gently explained. "Just like when his friend Robert died this spring – it brings a man closure, helps him heal inside. Luke's carried a lot of hurts in him for a long time – so have a lot of men like him, and families like that one today – and some of those hurts won't ever completely heal. But some of them, we can help with – that's why that Memorial was built, to honor those who died, _and_ to honor those who lived. It's good for Luke to see that, even if it's hard."

Bo and Daisy nodded understanding – especially Bo, who knew a little bit more about his cousin's experiences than Daisy.

Later on, they woke Luke for dinner, and spent a quiet evening at the hotel. The next day, they spent more time sightseeing, and they returned to the Wall for just a little while. This time Luke didn't linger, but he smiled a little to see the flowers, letters, ribbons and medals piled at the base of the polished black Memorial, and he was proud to see the Wall standing among all the great monuments of the nation's capitol. They visited Rob's grave at Arlington, where Jesse surprised them by taking them to several graves of his own fallen comrades. Luke showed his uncle and cousin the Marine Corps Memorial, and he smiled when Daisy insisted on taking a picture of him before it for her photo album. The more they walked around, the more Bo could see the truth of Uncle Jesse's words, in the way Luke walked and talked.

On the morning of the fourth day, it was time to go home, and the Dukes set out in the General Lee with suitcases and souvenirs packed in the trunk. Luke was surprised at the length of the drive, when he wasn't sleeping or speeding through most of it – just like Bo was surprised at how much more fun D.C. was without dizzy spells and a splitting headache. They talked, sang, and played road games all the way home, and all four Dukes were very glad to be back in Hazzard once more.

Bo steered the General up the driveway, and Jesse was glad to see the farm was still standing after four days of Cooter's caretaking. The boys helped their uncle and cousin out of the orange Charger, and they started carrying luggage in while Daisy went to start dinner. It was between the car and the farmhouse that Luke paused to clap his little cousin on the back.

"Thanks, Bo," he said quite simply, before picking up his luggage again. Thanks for the trip, thanks for being there, thanks for understanding…he meant a great deal more than the simple words he spoke.

Bo smiled. Uncle Jesse was always right. "No problem, Luke." And he followed his cousin inside.

**-Fin'-**


End file.
